BlackScarf Pirates
by IllusionistLyricalLegacy
Summary: Something lies yonder; over the horizon. Search out for your everlasting dreams and always persist, forward, even in the face of adversity. Cherish your precious memories; make the most of everyday. There's an entire world full of adventure underneath the vast blue sky and the ocean is full of endless possibilities. Go outlive the sea and see your wildest imaginations come true.
1. Prologue

**To my audience: Firstly I'd like to say h** ** **ello and welcome;** I'd also like to thank you [all] for taking time to read my work(s). This story is my very first fan-fic, as well as my first published entry (although I've tried my hand, in writing before). I hope you enjoy!**

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A blare from a whistle cuts into the sharp winter breeze, "Halt; in the name of the Navy!" A marine shouts, followed by another sharp blast from the whistle: carried out behind him. A figure wearing a black hoodie cuts into an alleyway, disappearing from sight. Listening intently to the footsteps, scrunching through snow, the figure remains crouched watching as more than a dozen marines rush past. The figure exhales deeply, its breath becoming visible in the cold winter air.

Leaving its hiding spot, the figure clutches two burlap sacks slung over its, left, shoulder. However, the exact moment it walks out from concealment: a cloth scarf snags on something unseen. The hooded figure tugs the garment loose, causing several adjacent garbage cans to clank and batter together, noisily scattering trash everywhere. The figure shudders, hoping it wasn't too loud; praying no one heard.

"What was that!?" A marine shouts.

"It came from over here!" Another voice responds, shortly followed by gunshots.

The figure mutters a four-letter word, dodging a hail of gunfire, sprinting the full length of the alley before reaching a ladder at the end. Bullets whiz by, zipping past the figure, buzzing likes bees only louder and far more deadly. The figure proceeds to climb the ladder making its way up to the rooftops, as bullets continue flying in rapid succession towards it. A carefully placed shot rips through one of the sacks slung over its shoulder causing food and other supplies to fall onto the snow below. Another had torn through its leg, evident from the red blood seeping onto the figures white trousers. Although, adrenaline mostly blocked the pain out: focusing solely on the climb, and nothing else.

The figure quickly scales the wall and pulls the ladder up immediately behind it; in the process a bullet grazes it on the cheek. Gathering a running start the figure leaps onto an adjacent, snow-covered, rooftop jumping across from building to building as it made it's escape, disappearing off into the distance. Taking extra precautionary measures the hooded figure sprints, and doesn't stop running until it reaches its hideout: on the East end of the island.

The figure slinks inside an abandoned house and ducks underneath the staircase, crawling down a hidden compartment. It takes several seconds for its eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. The figure stands loosening its scarf and removes its hood; revealing an adolescent male, "Whew, ah, that was too close for comfort." He says using his thumb to wipe fresh blood off his cheek; where a bullet grazed him earlier.

He attempts walking but pain had already replaced adrenaline; his leg felt as if it were on fire. He hobbles toward an old ornament table with only one of its original legs, the missing legs had been replaced with discarded pipes of uneven lengths; placing it on an awkward lean. He rummages inside the remaining sack and piles the contents onto the wooden surface.

"Its May. May's back, everyone!" The voice of a young girl shouts ecstatic, rushing beside him "Look May, I lost a tooth." The little girl points to the vacant spot in her smile. The commotion he'd caused upon entrance garnered him an audience; other small children clamor into the room, excited to see what the young man had returned with.

" MAY!" A fiery voice erupts: a previously unnoticed figure looms in the shadow of the doorway, "Damn it. May! Half the friggin' island's looking for your dumbass" A young woman; not much older than May lectures: the young man presently cowering behind a nearby child, "As usual you've been acting reckless." She pulls May by the ear.

"Ow, ouch, ow. . .Just a tiny bit, ow, ow, ow." He makes a gesture with his fingers, "Besides, I didn't come empty handed." The young woman eyes the table, first, before finally giving him his ear. May rubs his sore ear as the woman inspects his haul, "Only this time the son's of bitches were waitin' for me. 'Course like always the infamous May gets away, ha, ha, ha!" May finishes triumphantly and strikes a glorious pose, to the cheers of the many children.

"Don't influence them!" She yells at May putting him in a headlock, "Don't encourage him!" She shouts at the children before whispering in May's ear, "Delivery tomorrow; needs someone to cover his morning route: meet 'em at the hangout if you're alive." She puts emphasis on the word 'delivery' punching his wounded thigh, intentionally. May nods, painfully, understanding the phrase.

She releases him and retreats to the exit, "Oh, one more thing, Chyster's been askin 'round for you, supposedly something important." The woman says before departing the hideout.

May bandages his injuries and gathers up all his remaining strength, he'd need every ounce of energy and wit at his disposal: dealing with Chyster one always had to be alert and perceptive. Before leaving May gives the little girl, with a missing tooth, a new book he had hidden, tucked, inside his shirt; she flaunts it off to the other children satisfied greatly.

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 **Please feel free to leave/post any questions or comments. I am open to criticism (I like it rough but please take it easy on me). I intend to adapt the story to your liking for the best reading experience imaginable. So let me know if you have any ideas you'd think would make the story more exciting and enjoyable for you.**


	2. Prologue: Part 2(1 of 2)

**To my audience: Welcome back to the story; if you're returning I'd like to thank you for your continued interest; if you're new I've got a surprise for you. I hope you [all] enjoy!**

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May exits the hideout and walks outside into a snowstorm; his black trousers snag in the wind. He proceeds onward pulling a pair of mismatched gloves over his hands; on the left hand yellow and purple on the right: time had worn the treads bare so his fingers were exposed to the full harshness of the elements. May blows his breath into his hands, rubbing them together to keep warm. When all of a sudden something appears, from nowhere, and hits May very hard knocking him clean out his shoes.

May is sent spiraling several meters through the snow, however he recovers planting his bare feet on the ground: a chill races up his spine from his toes being tickled by snow. May scans his surroundings for his assaulter in vain; due to the snowstorm he had poor visibility. However, at the last second, he catches sight of something again swiping at him but this time he protects himself, guarding against the attack. Although, before May can react the perpetrator vanishes into the raging snowstorm, "What's the matter, coward, realized you ain't got a chance beating me?" May shouts taunting the unseen adversary.

In response a furry arm strikes outward, missing, as May doges beyond reach. A large bunny the size of a bear stands out in the open challenging him, "Oh, so you are as dumb as you look." May tells the lapin knocking his fist together. Despite the lapin's abnormal size it moved exceedingly quick, closing the distance between them in a blink; not to mention had impressive brute power: punching through three feet of slush and snow with such impact the frozen ground underneath broke apart. At the same time May cartwheels over the lapin, landing a kick to the back of its head before landing behind it, "That was for earlier." May boasts.

The lapin turns around, enraged, swiping several times at May whom evades each strike, more efficiently than the last. Timing his attack May lands a powerful kick in the belly of the lapin causing it to staggers backwards: the breath knocked out of it. It vanishes into the snowstorm attempting to attack from his blind sides: **THWACK!** May allows the lapin to strike him from a vulnerable angle, absorbing the entire blow unflinching, "*Sigh* this sad trick again." May grips the lapin's forearm so it's unable to escape, "Now it's my turn!" May brings his knee into the face of the bear-sized bunny, following it up with a series of knee strikes; repeatedly kneeing the lapin in the face. The lapin stumble on the verge of collapse, "I'm not finished yet!" May dives into a barrel-roll and springs off into a handstand driving both heels into the chin of the lapin, " **RISING LOTUS!** " The bottoms of both May's heels introduce themselves to the lapin's chin: the chin of the lapin kisses the heels of May's feet. The result is the lapin being launched far away, no longer May's concern.

Pulling his scarf over his face May makes his way back to the path and continues his trek, barefooted. After an icy walk May reaches the saloon; as usual a rowdy bunch of drunken patrons were engaging in a fistfight. Ignoring them he makes his way over to the bar, "Yo, Cheapskate. A mug of warm ale." May yells to the bartender over all the background commotion.

The bartender cackles, "Aye! A cheapskate, is that what you think of good 'ol Chys-mieser." The man behind the counter turns around delighted by the sight of his latest patron, "Oh, my, if it isn't May the infamous; just the feller I've been wantin' to see." May gets an uneasy feeling in his gut: whenever Chyster wanted to "see" someone there was usually, always, an ulterior motive behind it: the problem lay primarily in discovering what that motive was.

"Yeah, bout what," May asks suspiciously. "Concerned with the welfare of the common folk?"

"*Pfft*, nothin' as noble as that, my heart bleeds beri." Chyster begins cheesing extra hard, "Found somethin' that might interest you, and 'cause I'm such a nice feller; a man of profit-"

"Enough riddles, cut to the chase, already." May says irritated.

"Since I'm a man of profit and reasonable compassion. I'll let you have something and it'll only cost a favor for an ol' pal." Chyster crawls over the bar, making his way to the back, gesturing for May to follow. Chyster takes a candle and starts down into the cellars; reluctantly May follows him. When they arrive at a heavy oak door Chyster inserts an old, rusty, key into the keyhole, and after a few unsuccessful tries; a loud click later the door unlocks and they are able to enter. The section they enter has cobwebs everywhere; May feels more cautious than before. Of the top three island rules, number three: never completely trust Chyster. Extending his hand Chyster grabs a dusty old bottle off a shelf and holds it up towards May.

"You brought me down in this dank cellar just to drink expired liquor?!"

Chyster appears insulted, "*Scoffs*, like you could afford aged expertise." He practically shoves the bottle in May's hands. Upon taking a closer look, smudging some of the cobwebs and dust off, May realizes there's no liquid inside the bottle. Odd. Instead there was a message inside, even stranger.

"This ain't funny. What type of games are you playing?" May looks at Chyster frowning,

"I'm not. Discovered it while doin' inventory, 'bout a week ago."

May pulls out the message: staring quizzically at half a map, "What am I supposed to do with half a map?"

"Keep it, trash it, make it whole again: don't know, don't care. It's useless to me so I'm really not interested in the thing, one bit, but this was next to it." Chyster hands May an envelope, already opened, "Curiosity got the bests of me." Chyster apologizes.

May gives him a cold stare but snatches the envelope from him anyway, recognizing the handwriting. "This… this is."

"Mhmm, Ol' man Ma's final words fer ya." Chyster recalls some incidents and encounters, "Boy your grandfather was one mm…" He catches himself stopping before uttering the word, gauging May while he searched for a better word, "One eccentric feller, to say the least." Chyster finally finishes. Fortunately, May was too absorbed by the words on the paper to pay any attention (May had a tendency to let his temper cause unnecessary trouble; badmouthing his grandfather was a trigger.)

Chyster holds the candlelight closer for May; the letter read: _To my dearest May, Something lies yonder; over the horizon. Search out for your everlasting dreams and always persist, forward, even in the face of adversity. Cherish your precious memories; make the most of everyday. There's an entire world full of adventure underneath the vast blue sky and the ocean is full of endless possibilities. Go outlive the sea and see your wildest imaginations come true. Sincerely Grandpa Ma. (P.S. Lets have one last, grand, treasure hunt)._ May stares at the paper in his hands, long and hard, a serious expression on his face. Without saying a word May turns around, choking back tears. Silently he grabs a bottle of rum off the top shelf to cheer himself, and returns up the stairs to the bar, much to Chyster's dissatisfaction: he'd practically stolen the bottle; a particularly expensive one at that.

May sulks around the bar reminiscing, in a secluded corner, well past closing time studying the items his grandfather left him. Reaching a hand underneath his scarf May grasps his lotus pendant in his palm, clutching it tightly, considering something. May presses the bottle to his lips and tilts his head back prepared to drain the remaining contents in one chug. However, he had already and effectively completed that task. Staring one-eyed inside the empty bottle he hiccups; suddenly looses balance falling backwards in his chair. Before May even crashes onto the floor he's out like a light.

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 **Please feel free to leave/post any questions or comments about this chapter.** **I am open to constructive criticism (I do take seriously your input). I intend to adapt the story to your liking for the best reading experience imaginable. Please let me know if you have any ideas you think would make the story more exciting and enjoyable for you.**


	3. Prologue: Part 2(2 of 2)

**To my audience: Hello everyone and welcome back. Before you begin reading I like to implore you to leave a comment afterward, and let me know your thoughts on how the story is progressing. Please and Thank you.**

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May dreams he's a ten-year-old boy again, playing with other children, five boys yell and run around roughhousing in a junkyard. Four of the five boys were dressed as pirates each wearing a distinguishable item marking them as such (bandana, eye-patch, hook, and black scarf). In contrast the remaining child wore a plain white cap with the word "NaVy" scribbled on the front; each letter in a different color crayon (Blue, Red, Yellow, Green).

"No fair, why am I always stuck as the marines." The boy argues, halting their game.

"It's because you're stupid, and always talk about going to the navy when you're older." The boy with the hook taunts, whom looked to be slightly older than young May.

"Yeah, dummy, they'll never let you join if they found out you were part of a pirate crew." The boy wearing the bandana tied over his head inputs; presumably the eldest, "We're keeping your dream intact."

"Mmhm, you should be more grateful." The youngest boy with the eye-patch chimes.

Overlooking the junkyard on a porch nearby, in a rocking chair, sits an old man with a head full of gray hair; a few speckles of his natural hair color remained resisting the aging process. Despite this his gruff beard and mustache retained their original appearance. Smoke protrudes out of a pipe that he holds in his hand, which he puffs on several times inhaling deeply.

Rocking back and forth with a larger than life grin on his face the old man observes as the children resume their game, getting into a battle. The game ends with the navy boy victorious, having round up all the pirates; the other boys were bound together beaten up with knots on their heads and darkened eyes. The old man chuckles and wheezes spewing smoke out his nostrils, ears, and mouth.

The next morning May awakens, groaning, his head drumming with a hangover. Remembering he's supposed to cover for B-Man, today, in less than an hour, May groggily scrambles out the saloon doors. Outside yesterday's snowstorm had turned into a blizzard. However, a shirtless Chyster was already awake shoveling and salting the walkway while smoking a cigar, cold didn't bother him much, "What's the rush, on this beautiful morning?" Chyster inquires merrily.

"Mayhem." May responds calling out over his shoulder as he rushes past Chyster fastening his black scarf tighter, previously dangling loosely and threatening to fly off. Years of island expertise allowed him to travel around virtually unhindered by the blizzard: May makes a mental note to obtain another pair of shoes, soon. Finally he arrives at the hangout, an inconspicuous spot, near the old junkyard; the very junkyard and Rita rescued him from after his grandfather's disappearance; that was nearly eight years ago.

May maneuvers into a crooked pile of debris and slides down a pole into a hole, entering the hangout. Although, in actuality the hangout referred to the connection of tunnels beneath the junkyard, separated by the local bandit crews that laid claim to them. May begins patrolling the tunnels and not too long after someone shouts his name, "Yo! May!" He turns to see a tall and muscular man approaching; 6'4; wearing a gold chain around his neck, denim jeans, with a light brown trench coat and matching boots: the coat was unfastened at the collar to better reveal his muscles and gold chain.

The muscular man greets May, playfully, clapping him on the back with a heavy hand, "Ah, May, glad you turned up. Come on we're bout to get started." B-Man ushers May through a small corridor.

"I thought you were running a delivery and need someone to cover your route."

"That's just what I told Rita-girl." Booms B-Man; May knew all too well what that meant, was scheming something and either it was too risky to include her, or she was too risky to be included. The two walk into a room with a large square table in the center, and a map of the entire island, unfolded, on the middle of the table. May looks around, speechless, at the faces gathered for the meeting; all bandits leaders of regard throughout the island: Twins Calvin the Club and Melvin the Mace; Brian Brass-Knuckle; Crain Crowbars; Kevin Quick-Knife and Pippin Poles.

"Firstly, let me express my gratitude" B-Man begins, loudly, clearing his throat to get their attention, "I've asked you all to assemble, here, today for a single purpose: to seek your cooperation. If we combine our crews together, trust and believe me when I say; I know we all haven't exactly seen eye to eye on more than one occasion. But our problems aren't so very different in fact the only thing that separates us is the method in which we choose to survive. However, we all suffer the same struggle." He hesitates giving his speech a moment to resonate, before continuing, "While for the past two decades the mayor and the West-end civilians live a life of lavish and comfort. Therefore, I suggest we call an absolute truce until our objective is seen to completion." The other bandit leaders murmur among themselves, considering a truce had never crossed either of their minds.

"And what is 'Our' objective?" Crain asks using the word our sparingly.

"A heist. The likes this island has never before seen." B-Man says proudly.

"Are you're suicidal, trying to get us all killed, or both? If you're suggesting what I'm thinking." The man with the many knives makes a gesture slitting his own neck, "Every last one of us." only nods his head with a sullen look drawn on his face.

The expression of the room changes and tension shifts to a boil as tempers flare up, "This whole thing is preposterous." Cal says; Mal agrees, "We should kill you now and bury you along with this foolish endeavor." Both twins ready their weapons prepared to fight.

"If you thumb-suckers are already shittin' your pants, I'll gladly murder you." Brian-Brass-Knuckles boasts instigating a fight.

"Fellows please" B-Man intervenes. "We are in a desperate situation. What other choices do we have? An anonymous party has expressed interest in establishing new trade routes, and this contact intends to provide us the very essentials we've been denied access: food, medical supplies, and proper education." The prospect of the wonderful things this anonymous party offers seem to capture their attention and they all come to a consensus.

"What's your strategy?" Poles asks.

"In essence it's quite simple. We'll use the twins warehouse to store everything; Crain and I can handle distribution; Brass-Knuckles will be the muscle to enforce or defend; Knives will carry out our operations, and Poles will further our interest through communications." Satisfied with his well laid out strategy the meeting is adjourned, and the other bandit leaders leave to relay the truce to their respective gangs, until further notice.

"You never cease to amaze me with your ability to bring people together." May tells B-Man once everyone had left the meeting room, and the two were alone, "So that's your plan to steal an entire island?"

"*Chuckles* It's nothing like that, more like return. You weren't born yet when it happened, so of course you wouldn't know about it. But when I was little both sides of this island were equally prosperous."

"Yeah, what gave?" May asks considering the way things were currently.

"The corrupt mayor, Koin, and the Navy. They robbed and deceived until the entire island was in the palm of their hands." He's interrupted by the sound of his stomach growling, "Eat time! Come on May, tonight, lets dine like rich folk. We can snatch a pair of shoes on the way." May looks down at the floor and stares at his exposed feet and tries to wiggle his, numb, frostbitten toes.

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 **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will continue to read for further updates (Every Saturday, Wednesday, and/or Thursday). Writing is often times a thankless task but we need those weird riddle guys..**


	4. Prologue: Conclusion

**To my audience: Once again welcome to another chapter, on this wonderful Wednesday, and a personal thank you to those who've continued reading thus far. As a reward, I've extended this chapter and threw in some unexpected surprises (nothing major). And as always I hope you enjoy and continue to look for more updates.  
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May lies on a couch, resting his eyes; inside the hideout it was pure chaos. It was May's turn to watch the children and what a spectacular job he was doing, two kids were fussing over a toy; while a young girl cried because she'd lost her blanket; another pair of boys were arguing over who'd win in a swordfight between Shanks or Mihawk (having a swordfight of their own). He drew the black stone. Of all the assignment stones in the bag, black, he could have drawn red; supply gathering, white; snow patrol, or blue; food hunting.

His head was hurting from a headache provided by the trio he'd put in time out: earlier they jumped on his stomach, while he was dozing off, and then hit him in the face with a frying pan when he proceeded to chase after them. These children were completely out of [his] control. In fact the only one who wasn't making any noise was a little girl, hidden, underneath a table reading an encyclopedia. Once finished reading she closes the book and crawls out of her hiding spot.

"May, I'm hungry." The scrawny girl taps him until he stirs.

"*Sigh*, Alright, c'mon, will you help me get dinner ready, Amy?" May groans, still half asleep.

"Mmhm, aye!" The little girl, Amy, nods her head eagerly. May reaches in between the old couch cushions and pulls out a frying pan, before lifting the girl onto his shoulders and heading down into the kitchen. After scraping together everything that remained in the cupboards and pantry: spaghetti waffles and hamburger pancakes with rice balls were served. And after everyone had finished eating and practicing proper hygiene it was time for bed; as usual the transition was chaotic, "Dog pile!" A certain trio shouts: unsuspecting May is avalanched winding up at the bottom of a mountain of children, exhausted and unconscious.

On the designated day, at the designated hour, May leaves the children alone and heads to Cal and Mal's warehouse. Apparently B-Man had arranged for the anonymous contact to deliver the first shipment of food and medical supplies there. In exchange the contact insisted the bandits receive the supplies unarmed to encourage friendship, in light of a new business venture.

May holds his suspicions about this contact, which he expresses to B-Man when he arrives at the rendezvous, "Are you sure about this?" B-Man looks at May with a humongous grin on his face.

"Ah, that's the May I know; always the voice of reason." His smile fades. "To be honest I 'dunno. There's always the possibility of something going wrong with these kinda things, but it's a risk me-n-the guys are willing to take: in order to make all our lives better." B-Man looks around making sure no one was in earshot, or watching, before pulling may aside, "Here take this." He shoves an old pistol into Mays hands.

"What?! What do you want me to do with this?"

"Hush up fool. I want you to keep it close; in case things turn ugly in there."

"Didn't you say there'd be no weapons allowed. I won't be able to enter with this." May reminds him in a hushed tone.

"Not seen you won't." B-Man pauses for a moment, "Look, May, you're a good kid; always concerned about others but never, once, have I considered you part of our gang. You're a bright lad; I don't want you mixing yourself in with the lot of us scoundrel and troublemakers." May is taken aback by B-Man's honesty, speechless.

"What crawled up your pants today?" May tries to make light of the situation. However, this only makes B-Man tense up causing him to take a more serious tone.

"Listen to me, May! I've opened a door that once I enter I can no longer exit. "We; myself included just found out that my contact is a pirate, and not just any pirate he's a Shichibukai; one of the seven warlords of the sea." B-Man takes a long deep breath, recomposing himself, "I want you to take that pistol and observe the meeting in secret, and if you see something wrong: I trust you to make that judgment call."

B-Man walks off leaving May to find an alternate entrance. Unnoticed, May is able to sneaks inside the warehouse utilizing a secret escape route that led to the forest. There had been some truth to B-Man's words and because he wasn't officially part of any of the local bandit crews he was able to traverse more freely over and between territories: he'd once had a complex relationship with one of the girls from the warehouse (but we won't go into details).

For anyone traveling inside the warehouse it was a maze but fortunately for May, as mentioned afore, he possessed prior knowledge regarding the layout of the warehouse. He, stealthily, makes his way to where the meeting was progressing below; on the first level he could see multiple pirates carrying crates up from the basement (where a small canal flowed; the reason the warehouse was the chosen location).

May scans the entire meeting looking for this so called Shichibukai, warlord, or whatever he called himself. However, May doesn't see anyone who looked imposing enough to command such a title; in fact the only person who stood out, due to a remarkable appearance: an incredibly tall (seriously he had to be 10') and very lean man with light-blonde hair; although May couldn't see his face the man had a ridiculous pink feather coat on. He looked more comical that intimidating.

May returns his attention to the transaction-taking place between the bandit cooperation and pirates, to establish trade routes. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, until B-Man begins arguing with one of the pirates, "No! This was not our original arrangement." May hears anger in B-Man's voice.

"Then what are we supposed to do with all of these!" A pirate shouts knocking over one of the crates they had finished unloading. Something certainly was amiss; contraband muskets, rifles, flintlock pistols, saber, and daggers all spill out onto the ground.

BANG! A gunshot echoes in the atmosphere; none of the bandits had a gun: that was the condition they'd agreed upon. So why was he hearing gunshots, and who got shot? May watches as B-Man grabs a pirate by the neck lifting him off his feet. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The sound resonates loudly around the warehouse. B-Man chokes the life out of the pirate until the man's body falls deathly limp and he drops the gun: B-Man slowly slips out of conscious, collapsing.

May slides down the railing with the old gun in his hand, surprising some of the pirates, and bandits alike. May points at the nearest pirate and pulls the trigger. However, the gun never goes off; in fact May was starting to feel light headed, very, very, light headed. He blinks seeing his full body holding the gun; pointing it somewhere at someone. He sees the expressions on everyone's faces, fear, dismay, confusion; May even hears ominous laughter. He looks at his body again, without its head and smiles ' _Strange, I don't remember being cut_.' May blinks one last time seeing a thin thread, glimmer as light bounces of it.

May gasps for air, sweating, "Wh. . . What was that feeling, just now; did I just see my own death?" His heartbeat sounds like a drum in his ear, May tries to swallow but can't because of a lump in his throat. His head was swirling. Finally he returns to his senses hearing the screams from bellow. The navy had swept in and begun opening fire on any and everyone in sight. Still May was unable to move, he was unsure what to do ' _I trust you to make that judgment call'_ B-Man's words echo in his head.

Without hesitation or thinking May jumps from the third floor, down to the first, his legs shudder from the impact: A marine charges May with his rifle drawn, instinct controls May's body and he charges right back. The moment the marine pulls the trigger May is nowhere in sight: a low sweep lifts the marine off his feet and simultaneously May drives his face into the ground, cracking his skull.

Rushing into the fray, it was apparent it was a one sided affair in the Navy's favor. Despite this May fights desperately to reach B-Man, who had regained consciousness but lacked the strength to stand. Several marines block his path, however, May throws the gun at one hitting him in the face; he'd thrown it with so much force not only does it return to his hand, like a boomerang, the man shoots one of his comrades in the foot.

A dozen or so bandits who recognize May become reinvigorated when they realize what he was attempting, amidst the ensuing battle, May was fighting his way to his injured friend. B-Man lies injured on the floor clutching a wound in his abdomen by the time May reaches him, "It's alright. I'm going to get us out of here." May reassures B-Man hoisting the heavy man up. At the same time, a group of bandits form up around May to help.

"Fire! Fire! They're burning the place." A bandit shouts before he is shot and silenced, permanently.

Truthfully, no one was aware of the flames and smoke until they were made aware of the smoke and flames, "I know a way out… cough… cough… cough; everyone follow me!" They attempt to fight and escape, fight valiantly, but the Navy is too numerous and well equipped, "We have to make our way up to the third floor!" May shouts to the bandits, and the group rushes to the staircase where many marines had gathered (that was the downside to shouting your plans aloud, everyone heard).

Cal and Mal race to the front of the group, "We'll open a path you get him out of here." Jumping into the air the twins land in the center of the marines and begin flailing around their huge club and mace, knocking away the nearby marines, clearing a path to the second floor. By the time May and the other bandits had rushed up the steps and made their way to the third: gunshots were flying at their backs.

"Here, if we go through here we'll be able to escape into the forest." May reveals to the group once they had reached the secret escape.

"What're you waiting for, an invitation. Get 'im out of here." Kevin-Quick-Knives tells May.

"What about you guys?!"

"Brian-Brass never tucks tail and runs from a fight." Brian-Brass boasts. "They won't make it past here; now go, hurry!" May and about six others squeeze into the escape tunnel and proceed forward. Behind, May can hear the heroic battle the bandits were partaking in to cover their escape. It doesn't take too long before they reach the tunnels exit.

"Alright everyone, it's a little further, ahead, before we reach the forest; once we're out make a break for it." May pushes the lid off the tunnel and everyone clamors out. Smoke billows into the air and the heat generated makes the temperature outside feel a few degrees warmer. They make it to the forest edge when from nowhere a very familiar lapin strikes a bandit, pulverizing him into the snow. From out the forest a score or more lapins spills out, attacking the escaping bandits.

With the Navy in pursuit behind them and the lapins in front, a miracle happens, "Aargh, don't get in our way!" May yells exerting his will over many of the lapins rendering them unconscious. However, a very large lapin, with a missing ear and many scars remains standing; along with the other lapin May fought previously: the only obstacles in their path. "Take B-Man and get him out of here." May allows another bandit to shoulder B-Man.

"Be for real for a second, May, no ones ever fought that lapin and survived to tell about it." One of the bandits informs him.

"Fool, shut up, do you want all those men's sacrifice to be in vain." Resolved May charges forward at the lapin, giving it his all. The ferocious lapin bats May around helplessly while the other bandits, reluctantly, make their escape. May throws all his weight into a vicious jab while the ferocious lapin focuses all its might into a punch, both fists collide causing the surround snow to push away; from the small shockwave generated.

Both combatants jump apart, respectively injured, preparing to give it another go. They sprint toward one another closing the gap between them; when suddenly marines interrupt their match, uncharacteristically, shooting May in the back. Distracted by the interference May is crunched by the ferocious lapin; he hears a sweet snapping sound.

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 **Were you satisfied with this ending? How did this chapter make you feel, what do you think or want to happen next? Let me know your thoughts or if there was anything you feel I may have left out, etc. Until next time.**


	5. The Day I am Supposed to Die

**To my audience: Firstly let me apologize for the lack of updates, I've been on hiatus due to turmoil within the family. However, I am returned from absence and with the past behind us the family is looking toward tomorrow. After all the distractions, no excuses, I'll be resuming the story; without further delay let's get to it.**

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May's eyes were closed because he didn't need to see where he was going; he already knew. He had been re-living the past week inside his mind, replaying the events over and over. May sighs heavily as he's lead forward, bound by a thick rope at the wrist and a similar one around his neck. His pace slackens slightly and the escort jerks the reins, throwing him off balance. Briefly he's brought back to the reality of his current predicament.

A mob of, ruthless, civilians spit and curse at May while other hurl snow mixed with rocks, and other foul unmentionable things at him. ' _I'll never forget my first time at the gallows_ ' May comforts himself, closing his eyes, retreating back into his thoughts. A few days prior: May awakens inside of a cell, alongside the other bandits who survived the one-sided massacre, "Ah. You've finally come to, eh." One of the prisoners says.

May moves and the instant he does pain rings throughout his entire body causing him to give up his effort, "Ouch! How long have I been out?"

"Don't know when to give it up, do ya?" Someone chuckles, "Four, five days." May recognizes this voice.

"Kevin?!" May was surprised to see he was still alive given the circumstances they departed under. Questions were beginning to fill his head so many things left unanswered, "What happened back there?" May asks, confused, referring to the incident.

"They said [that] if we truly desired those things we've been denied, we should take it by force. You know the rest." Kevin trails off talking about the horrid events that immediately followed and how marines poured into the warehouse burning the place, "And after you jumped in to our rescue we were able to regroup and force the marines to retreat. Or at least we thought, once we attempted to flee ourselves the Navy had surrounded the place and was rounding up anyone fortunate enough to escape outside. *Sigh*. Although, I guess most of us owe you and Brian our thanks. "

"For what?" May asks surprised.

"Without your leadership, in the heat of the moment, and Brian's sacrifice we would've never made it out, he fought a spectacular battle inside the blazing warehouse." Kevin looks at May grinning and after a few seconds it becomes awkward.

"Something amusing?"

"Nah, I was just thinking how ironic it is. After all the sacrifices that were made we're still going to die."

"Uh? I live one day at a time." May struggles to understand what Kevin was trying to say.

"No one suffered any severe injuries, aside from you with a broken arm and a few bullet wounds, still we haven't been released." Overhearing their conversation a few bandits begin tossing around baseless accusations, uttering useless speculation about betrayals. "Your condition was the worst, don't worry though, I relocated the bone and used your scarf as a splint. Of course we'll be hung long before it heals." Quick-Knives informs May about the trials and executions in the park.

"Guess that explains everything." May laughs but even that hurt. Hearing enough of the bandits back and forth bickering, after someone accuses B-Man, May decides to end their discussion, by adding his input on the matter, "No one is a traitor! The way I see it, it was an operation coordinated by the Navy to get rid of us. All they needed was the presence of a pirate to make it legit." The bandits look clueless at May as if he were speaking a foreign language.

"We were all deceived by the Navy and now they intend to parade us in front of the population for execution. We were fooled."

"Well done; bravo indeed." The mayor applauds May for his aptitude of insight, overhearing their discussion, "Bandits are like cockroaches. Insignificant vermin and I plan to eradicate you pest entirely: lest I have you all resorting to piracy." The Mayor laughs maniacally, finding a certain level of self-satisfaction in his deeds.

"And that is something we just can not tolerate." The mayor looks at the prisoners inside the cage with utter disgust. He wore a dark blue suit with, white, stripes running up the sleeves; a gold pinky ring studded with a large diamond (on his right hand), the mayor also had on a silver wrist watch which he glances at; realizing the time he departs, taunting them, laughing whimsically as he strides confidently beyond their grasp. The inmates swear and curse the corrupt mayor trying to grab him. However, as the mayor leaves May notices a vaguely familiar bottle protruding out of his pocket.

May opens his eyes, in the present day, getting a good look at the gallows looming before him. As he is escorted up the block May looks out at all the crowd of onlookers, faceless, all of them. Their anger toward him was displayed by their hostile actions. The winds pick up blowing the scarf around May's neck: before the marines had come to get his group he had removed his splint because he didn't want to display any signs of weakness; he'd die proudly.

As they take turns standing on the platform a funny looking man recounts trump charges for everyone on the block, including May. When it was his turn to be hung he listens to the last words he'd ever hear, despite them being lies about his character, "May D. Lotus you stand; herby convicted of piracy, conspiring with pirates, aiding and abetting pirates, committed acts of banditry, grand larceny, and destruction of government property. Thus it is our civic duty to publicly execute this criminal, a menace to our great society in the chosen method: hung by the neck until dead."

After concluding the lengthy list they tighten the noose around his neck as the crowd boos, expressing their contempt. May lowers his head, resigned to his fate, helpless and without hope he lets out one last sigh, exhausted from living. The executioner lifts her large axe to cut the line and end their lives. Full of dread May hears a loud clanking noise followed by the snap of a rope; his death was imminent.

Then the unexpected happens the floor underneath his feet **does not** open, propelling him to his death. Instead he begins hearing cheering. May opens an eye, holding his head up; what he sees surprises him. Rioting. The crowd was rioting. People who once donned fine threads and garments, people who a few moments prior spat, cursed, and hurled things at him, cast their disguises aside; revealing the remnants of the bandits left on the island. However, it was not only the bandits but also the civilians of the East end. The vast numbers of rioters rush the platform, overwhelming the marines stationed at the execution trampling over them to topple the gallows, entirely.

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 **The adventure has just begun.  
**


	6. A Riot Happens: Rita!

**I'd would like to present another fascinating chapter for Wednesday's audience; brought to you by none other than the great, miraculous, Illusionist: Legacy! I hope you the enjoy performance.**

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May stares in disbelief at the scene he was bearing witness to bandits, civilians, and practically everyone he knew was rioting: protest to the humiliating execution of their beloved ones. The executioner is also surprised holding only the handle of her battle-axe, which had mysteriously been cut in half. It takes a moment for her to process what was occurring but soon instinct urges the executioner to proceed with the schedule, starting with May.

"Prepare to be executed criminal!" The executioner says as she grabs the spare axe on her hip. Suddenly, the platform begins shaking. Rioters were beginning to overpower the few marines posted below and were rocking the foundation, "Don't think this changes your situation; pirate. I have a perfect execution record, you won't escape me." The executioner angles her axe at his neck for a clean cleave, swinging in an arcing motion: May shuts his eyes, anticipating a more gruesome death than he imagined.

 **CLANG,** the sound of steel touching steel resonates on the platform. May squints, opening his eyes wide, "Rita!" He shouts ecstatic with tears of relief running down his cheeks. A girl with red hair shoots a smirk over her shoulder, his direction. Rita was engaged in a heated scuffle, wielding only a large knife, against the executioner's axe.

Suddenly Chyster appears next to him fumbling with the noose around his neck and knots binding his wrist, "We're gettin' ya outta here." Chyster reminds May he was involved in the rescue too. The platform beings wobbling, starting to tip over, and using this brief moment of distraction to her advantage, Rita knocks the unbalanced executioner over the edge.

Chyster, Rita, and May jump off the falling platform landing in the crowd below. Confusion and havoc reign supreme engulfing the park area as the magnitude of the riot increases, toppling the gallows fueling their fury. The executioner is pushed and shoved as prestigious, upper class, citizens along with the Navy scramble to get away from the massive mob.

Their numbers quickly swell spreading from the park into the streets of Market District shops, stores, and homes are broken into, vandalized, and cleared of everything of value. Breaking away from the riot Rita, May, and Chyster pause catching their breath, "Where're we going?" May asks realizing they weren't heading toward the hideout. In fact they hadn't said a word since rescuing him.

Chyster looks off in another direction refusing to say anything; Rita hangs her head low, "Gone." She mutters the word so low May is hardly able to hear her voice.

"Gone?! What do you mean, gone? Amy and the other children they're safe right… right?" Rita slowly shakes her head.

May rushes off in the opposite direction, his heart racing, he had to see for himself. Upon his arrival at the safe houses May doesn't recognize anything where he was currently standing; nothing remained. Except ashes and rubble, everything had been reduced to ashes and rubble.

He surveys the land not wanting to believe this sight: the ground, the buildings, and the trees were all scorched black; the only white his eyes saw came from the thin sheet of frost speckled upon the surface. May walks over to the familiar structure of an abandoned house still smoldering, their home; their hideout. May clears away the debris and finds a charred encyclopedia; pages still warm with embers.

His heart sinks into his stomach and all his anxiety immediately turns into agony. May begins experiencing unbearable sorrow giving in to mental distress. Clutching the burnt book hard to his chest May falls to his knees, wailing.

"It's not your fault, May, no one's blaming you." He flinches feeling the soft touch of a hand on his shoulder. The girl with red hair, Rita, comforts May through eyes wet with tears, sharing her friend's grief. She sits with May on the scorched ground hugging his neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads touch, "May. I'll always be by your side." She places her palm on his cheek.

May brings his gaze to meet hers and their eyes lock, momentarily. They stare at one another, unblinking, he sees clearly the sincerity behind her vow: she was lost in his eyes, which seemed the faintly glow. Hot with embarrassment Rita looks at the burned book between them, "I meant, uh… I'm here for you." She didn't intend to blurt out a confession but she didn't know how else to comfort him, or herself for that matter.

May considers, for the first time, he's not the only one suffering losses seeing the look of loneliness in his friend's eyes. Anguish turns into rage; he needed someone to direct this violent storm of emotions toward and he knew exactly who, "Koin!" May grits his teeth remembering the mayor's taunting words, ' _Bandits are like cockroaches. Insignificant vermin and I plan to eradicate you pest entirely…_ ' Things become evident and May wasn't going to allow the mayor to fulfill his selfish desire, whatever it was.

Rita grabs May's wrist as he stands to leave, "Promise me, you won't do anything reckless. *Achoo*." Rita shivers looking up at May rubbing her cold bare arms; she was wearing a sleeveless shirt in the winter; with snow themed camouflage pants. May drapes his scarf over her shoulders and silently walks off, vengeance on his mind. Rita sits, alone, watching as a light gust crumbles the books covering away: pages blown apart, ash, erased with the wind.

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 **Wow! What a riot. Was anyone prepared to have their heart strummed in this chapter; was anyone moved by the strings? Share your thoughts with me about this chapter, or any other (in the comment section). Tell me that was a riot to read: echo my excitement.  
**


	7. Rage and Revenge

**Here's another update for Wednesday.  
**

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 _"'_ _Look, May, I lost a tooth.'"_ May reminisces how excited and full of joy Amy had been the last time he had seen her smile, the last time he'd ever see her, the reality was setting in but he refused to accept it. He couldn't. Instead, May allows himself to be fueled by rage running at top speed he accelerates, faster, May was intent on making Koin pay _'You're not going to get away with this; I'm not going to let you.'_ Blinded by his anger May suddenly crashes into someone knocking them over: tripping to the ground also. On his way to confront the corrupt mayor, Koin, May bumps into Chyster, literally.

"Yow-ouch that hurt! Oh, it's you, watch where you're going." May stands brushing off dirt before extending a hand to help Chyster to his feet.

"Nice to run into you too." Chyster grabs his hand a sly grin already on his face. "In fact, I'm glad I bumped into ya. Serves ya right for bailing on me, and after I risked my neck to save your life too; this is the way you thank a friend." Chyster impedes May's path, "Plus there's that favor you owe me."

"Not now. I don't have time for your antics today." May attempts to maneuver around Chyser: Chyster, however, goes out of his way to intentionally prevent May from proceeding.

"Aren't you at least going to hear what I have to say, besides it's not like you have somewhere to return to, what else do you have to lose." May stops dead in his tracks, Chyster knew exactly what to say to catch someone's attention but now was not the time to rattle his nerves. May slams Chyster against a wall fist clenched at him.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hold up I too have some, unresolved, business with the mayor. Allow me to lead the way I know a shortcut." May decides to follow Chyster taking a series of shortcuts, including the hill path, arriving sooner than May expected. Along the way Chyster informs May about his inconspicuous dealings with the mayor. Dealings he preferred to keep secret, now that the mayor had an angry mob out for his head; Chyster wanted not one piece of it. When the fallout occurred he planned to be long gone.

Expecting retaliation from the residents after his most recent deeds the mayor posted a dozen intimidating guards at the gate to his large manor. Inside the gates there were ice sculptures inspired by his prized guard-dog, Truff; in the center of the yard is a fountain, a statue of the mayor, spouting water out his mouth. Chyster ponders a way to sneak past the guards, a light bulb appearing above his head, "I got it!" Clapping his fist on his palm Chyster looks at toward where May was, "I need a di-version…"

May charges out of the blue leaving Chyster in the bushes, lost in thought, before he realized it. May smashes his fist into the face of the first guard he comes into contact with and follows up with a 180-degree heel strike to the jaw of the next guard, unfortunate enough to be standing beside the previous man. May cracks his knuckles and neck getting loose. Now that he had lost the element of surprise it was going to be a fight, "Ten. Who's ready for a warm up!?" May dispatches the first man who attempts to avenge their fallen comrades, with a swift jab to the side of the head.

"Nine." The man lies face down in the snow, unmoving, momentarily before three more simultaneously rush May. May ducks underneath the sword swung at him and spins into a crouching stance as he drives his elbows into the guard's gut, forcing him back into a pine tree; snow falls from top burring him. In the moment immediately following May shoots both his fist out, horizontally, punching the other two men in the ribs; causing them to drop their weapons and fall to the ground clutching their sides.

May winces as his shoulders protest the impact; his arms still hadn't fully healed, "Six." May lets out a sigh, continuing on with his countdown wearing a smirk.

"What're y'all standin 'round for; Get 'em!" The head security guard was growing furious at his subordinates. Five men circle around May surrounding him on all sides. May studies the uncertain expressions on their faces and searches out the one most likely to falter. May sees a guard nod his head signaling everyone closes in all at once. May releases a barrage of kicks striking four of the five, delivering crushing blows, executed too fast to be seen by the untrained eye.

The fifth and final guard drops his weapon and turns tail to run, when he's suddenly struck down by the security captain, "Useless, useless, the whole lot of you." The final guard readies himself taking on an imposing stance.

"One." May half sprints dropkicking the last guard hard in the chest launching him, without a fight, into the gate and busting it down as Chyster was attempting to pick the lock. With all of the guards taken care of Chyster and May proceed to the double doors and Chyster knocks at the front door, "No ones home." Chyster remarks playfully. May kicks the doors down letting himself in. Staring in awe at the painted ceiling and chandeliers, Chyster twirls around delighted.

"Wow! This place is huge, we should split up." Chyster wears a large grin on his face.

"Yeah." May coldly agrees.

"Dibs on the top floor." Without hesitation Chyster bolts up the staircase to the upper floor separating and leaving May to search the rooms below for the mayor.

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 **Thanks for tuning in and I hope you continue to check for further updates, until next time.**


	8. Rage and Revenge: Conclusion

**It's been a while.** **Unfortunately, my laptop's hard-drive gave on me causing me to lose alot of my work.** **Fortunately, I haven't given up on the story and I am ready and eager to resume with regular updates.**

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May stands momentarily in silence, he could hear the footsteps of Chyster growing fainter and more distant until not at all. The mayor's manor was by far the most lavishly decorated estate on the entire island: wealth accumulated from countless years of extortion and taxing. No doubt the entire mob would soon be making their way toward the ultimate prize. Time was precious. May surveys the lower rooms, swiftly, opening doors but not bothering to closer them; giving not a second glance at anything.

The inside of the mayor's manor was practically a maze containing more corridors than a person had limbs, and more rooms than appendages attached. After searching several more rooms, and flinging a dozen doors open May stands in front of a pair of gold doors, larger than the rest. This had to be the most conspicuous door inside the entire estate, coincidently May hadn't noticed it sooner. Coming from the other side May can hear clattering as something scurries about. Approaching the doors he places his palms on the polished gold surface, inhaling, and with as much force add he could muster with a broken arm: May pushes the doors inward tearing them halfway off the hinges.

Standing merely a few strides in front of him the object of all his directed anger, "Koin!" May roars irate with rage. A startled stiff Koin stares at May, frozen, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"I... I remember you, wh...what are you doing here" Koin stammers nervously, "Where are my guards?!" The mayor masks his fear with a tone of authority.

"They won't be interrupting us." May replies confidently with a satisfied smirk sewn on his face. His expression quickly turns into a scowl, however, after the realization of what the mayor was attempting, "In a hurry to go somewhere, aren't we-" May's suddenly stricken with astonishment as his eyes are drawn to a peculiar yet familiar, dusty old bottle atop the desk.

"How did you get that!?" May demands through clenched teeth, stepping closer to Koin.

In a panicked state the mayor tries offering May an irresistible bribe to spare his life and leave him unharmed. Going as far as offering his prized pinky ring; studded with the enormous diamond. But once he comprehended the futility of his efforts, his temper sours, "What concern would, rabble like you have with where, or how, I obtain my possessions." Koin backs away putting more distance between himself and an enraged May.

"Stay... stay away from me." Koin's mood worsens when he inadvertently wedges himself between a bookcase and May. "What has gotten into you insignificant vermin!? Thinking you can place your grubby little fingers on whatsoever you desire. First that little urchin brat and now you." In a fraction of a second May hems Koin up by his collar and slams him into the bookcase, before he could say another word, causing multiple books to fall crashing to the floor.

"Amy was not an urchin!" May tightens his grip around the mayor's collar and lifts him off his feet.

Realizing he struck a nerve Koin goads May, "You actually named that vicious creature?" Koin jeers earning him a punch to the face, sending him reeling into the windowsill one hand stilling his bleeding mouth. Amused, Koin begins chucking aloud, "That mongrel had a more vicious bite! The mangy thing latched itself onto my arm. The violent beast. " Surely enough, upon inspection, May is able to see visible bite marks running along the mayor's wrist.

Koin sneers thrilled creating such a rise out of May, "Honestly, I'm just grateful I haven't caught an infection. Fortunately, for both our sakes, I put that stray down." The mayor gestures, bringing his pinky ring to his lips and kissing the enormous diamond, smearing blood on it in the process. Burning with fury May rushes Koin failing entirely to notice the mayor's guard dog, Truff, charging into the study; drawn by all the commotion.

May gets within an arms length from Koin, however, before he can extend a hand to grab the mayor: May is suddenly tackled to the ground. Filled with ecstasy Koin rejoices, "Unlike your untrained animal, when I say "bite" my pet obeys. Bite! Bite!" True to his word each time the mayor uttered or mentioned "bite" Truff would get riled up, lashing out, teeth tearing through fabric and burying into soft flesh.

The mayor grabs an object previously unnoticed, pulling out a solid gold cane. Using the gold cane, without hesitating, Koin proceeds to slugg May around the entire room knocking him into the bookcase; causing it to collapse ontop of himself, "I'm going to make you regret every laying a finger on me, just like that beggar brat." Koin boast, stomping and kicking May. When out of the corner of his eye something catches May's attention. An encyclopedia.

Tears swelling in his eyes, May reminisces Amy's smile and how overjoyed she became when he presented her with a copy. A smile he'd never again have the opportunity to gaze upon, ever again. Each strike was a painful and constant reminder of that reality. Numbing agony that would continually follow him forever. No pain inflicted could measure up to something so immeasurable, too unbearable.

As if possessed by the devil himself, May taps into an extra reserve of strength letting out a fearsome cry; gripping the mayor by the ankle pulls his foot from underneath him. Koin crashes to the floor as May rises, hosting the heavy bookcase above his shoulders; momentarily before hurling it at a more terrified than ever Koin. Managing at the last second to scramble out the way Koin screams for his prized guard dog to attack.

Truff lunges through the air toward May, although a well placed axe kick causes Truff to plummet face first through the floor. Not yet content. May forcefully slams his leg into the guard dog with a roundhouse, propelling Truff out a nearby window. Turning his attention back to Koin: attempting an unceremonious escape. May catches the mayor with a resounding roundhouse driving all the wind out of him, and cracking a few ribs in the process.

Koin drops to his knees, to plead for mercy, receiving a punishing back-fist. In the pocess of pummeling Koin a parchment drifts off the desktop, landing at May's feet. Recognizing half of what he was starting at, May relinquishes a beatten and battered Koin. Intrigued by the unexpected completion of the map, under bizarre circumstances, May inspects the unfamiliar half before rolling both halfs of the completed map up, and returns the contents to the dusty old bottle. Which he then slips into his pocket.

Humiliated and embarrassed beyond expression Koin stabs May whilst unaware, and his back was turned. Unbeknown to May the handle of the mayor's cane could detach and turn into a dagger. May faces Koin: holding the dagger with his blood, red, on it.

"Tell me, does it hurt, is this painful for you.?" Koin drives his dagger down into May's chest before May catches the mayor by the wrist. Shocked by May's inhumane ability to withstand damage Koin releases his grip on the dagger, "Why... why won't you die already!?" Koin screams as he tries in vain to snatch his hand away.

"Why, you ask? Because my heart stopped beating a while ago." Grabbing the mayor by the collar May turns his body spin, spin, spinning; faster and faster; until the entire room becomes a blur.

"Stop. Pl...please. Let me go." A dizzy, unconscious, Koin pleads.

"Begone!" May shouts as he obliges the mayor's final request, launching him through a priceless painting and the underlying wall; out into the courtyard where he collides with the statue of himself spouting water.

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 **The adventure continues. . . That's it for this week, check back next weekend for more updates. With the upsetting incident involving my laptop resolved we can resume on schedule. Furthermore let apologize lastly for the delay. This is long overdue.**


	9. Respite and Recovery

**Welcome back and I hope you've brought your appetite because I've prepared for you all yet another, dazzling, chapter of epic 's a lot in store for this week's portrait so without further delay, enjoy.**

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May stumbles through the hole in the wall made by the mayor's sudden departure; not a moment too soon. The mob had finally made it's way to the manor spearheaded by the girl whose hair resembles a red rose: Rita. Everyone was expecting to be met with some type of resistance, no one anticipated this outcome. The manor gates already busted down; the guards already indisposed, the front door kicked off the hinges; the dog riddled with glass, the mayor beaten senseless, and May.

After viewing the aftermath of the carnage that ensured prior to their arrival a portion of the mob had lost it's appetite for violence entirely, another had been taken with confusion unsure whether to celebrate the end of a corrupt regime or mourn everything that was stolen from them. The latter of the mob, still seeking to quench their thirst for vengance and sate their anger decide to loot whatever they could grasp. In their frenzy to ransack the manor a crowd of people shove past May, nearly knocking him off his feet.

May stumbles forward, on wobbly legs, woozy from all the bloodloss. All at once the adrenaline that carried him so far, abruptly, leaves his body, replaced by enormous exhaustion and piercing pain. Fatigue finally had caught up with May leaving him utterly drained. Unable to sustain his own weight any longer he collapses: arms unseen support May preventing him from inadvertently causing more harm to himself (with the dagger still logged deep in his chest). Before May's senses completely dull or maybe because they were so, he bares witness to each individual snowflake. Descending slowly they shift and swirl, swaying, down toward the earth: every one of them skulls. May inhales darkness, haunted by the laughter of the devil, as his vision fades to black.

At first the only audible sound is a distinct tone that rings perpetually inside his own head. Gradually other sounds begin to intertwine and the ringing becomes muffled, a fireplace crackles nearby, and water or some other form of liquid being poured can be heard close by; infused with the indistinct chatter of a conversation happening in an adjacent room. May inhales smelling the crisp chill of winter air, rushing in through an open window, accompanied by the overwhelming aroma of pine trees. Breakfast also lingered heavily setting his stomach to grumbling.

Despite having his eyes open his sight was still fuzzy and May didn't recognize where he was. Standing next to his bedside is a familiar figure, but when he attempts to speak, however, he's unable to form any words: his throat was so dry. Instead he grabs the figures wrist getting their complete attention, "R...Ri...Rita..." May finally croaks. Unfortunately he's greeted with a shriek of terror and met with a skull rattling slap. Rather than grabbing the wrist like he'd intended, stiff with weakness, May gropes the posterior of his nurse. The nurse flees the room dropping a silver platter on her way out, clattering noisily upon impact with the floor.

That smack, seriously, jump-starts his senses. May aches with stiffness and his entire body was one giant throb. Breathing was just about the only thing that came easy, breathing and blinking. The slightest movement sent sharp jolts of pain throughout whatever region he dared move. Suddenly, Rita rushes into the room; shortly after follows B-Man accompanied by the nurse and two other people he didn't recognize. Everyone was him staring at him like they were watching some sort of miracle happen, as if rising from bed was a remarkable feat.

"Looks like your condition has improved" B-Man remarks, "I told 'em it'd take more than a few scrapes and bruises to keep you down." It was a relief seeing B-Man well and his usual self, boisterous and adamant as ever.

"If you call life threatening injuries minor "scrapes and bruises" I shiver at the thought of what you consider severe, any normal person would've died under so much trauma; to withstand that much punishment is inhuman." The nurse wears a frown, not bothering to hide her displeasure with B-Mans remark.

"Phenomenal; absolutely astonishing is what it is. A true showing of manly fortitude." A large, round, man with a stern face compliments.

"I'm sorry for slapping you earlier." The nurse looks at May apologetically, "You frightened me, I wasn't expecting you to..." She trails off letting her eyes wander around the room from person to person.

"To still be alive?" May says, however, the words formed of their own volition.

The nurse nods shamefully, "I didn't expect you'd make a recovery."

"Yet alone move. We had to strap you down and shoot you with enough sedatives to stop a raging bull, you were thrashing and shouting so violently. And that was just so my daughter here, Ashley-Maria, could begin the procedure: I imagine it was excruciating." The stern faced man praises the nurse but keeps his gaze fixed upon patient. May's stomach growls noisily, and a tall dark-haired girl chuckles.

"I don't believe we've had an opportunity to be introduced; hiya. I'm Tina, Brock's fiancee." News that catches May unawares.

"Brock!?" That was the first time May had ever heard anyone refer to B-Man in that manner; he looks to Rita to echo his surprise but she was unresponsive. In fact she was the only one who hadn't said a single word. Rita simply stood there, silent, staring at him. With a look in her eyes, of the likes May'd never seen before one of apprehension, uncertainty, and worry. And something else, something she was keeping buried beneath the surface: May's stomach roars loudly refusing to be ignored.

Tina grins getting an idea, "How about I cook you up something, spectacular, you must be starving. I'm sure Brock neglected to mention my prowess in the kitchen." Tina, B-Man's fiancee, grabs May's nurse by the hand tugging her along, "Could you help me prepare the ingredients." Tina drags the nurse off not allowing her a chance to protest.

Almost on que, B-Man belches, "I could go for another rounded or two in the meanwhile; how about you, my good fella?" With a broad grin and that big palm, May was all too familiar, he claps the stern-faced man on the back. Although, it was equally amusing watching the large man pat B-man's chest, returning the gesture.

"I could go for a cold one and I have just a drink for the occasion. Let us revisit my manly bar." Laughing like two old pals they leave the room.

Left alone, together, the two of them, May and Rita stare at one another in silence. May wrapped in bandages from neck to toe: Rita wearing a yellow gown and a corset with her hair flattened. Neither knowing the right words to say or the appropriate way to express them. So they remain silent until at last May breaks the silence, "Wow. Rita, you look. . ." Before he has a chance to finish his statement Rita interrupts.

"I know. I look ridiculous." Embarrassed she averts her gaze unable meet his eyes.

"If that's ridiculous I must look remarkable." May smiles seeing a smile cross Rita's face. "Honestly, I feel like I wrestled a sea king." Apparent from the expression on her face it had the desired effect, Rita actually looks at May and for the first time they share a laugh before the silence creeps in again. There were so many things he wanted to ask, so many unanswered questions, but he didn't know where to start. He felt an enormous emptiness inside, a void, where he once held happiness. It was starting to dawn on him how he ended up in his current condition.

Again it's May who breaks the quiet spell, "Koin. What happened to Koin?" May throws off his covers and springs to his feet almost ignoring the pain. Immediately upon putting weight on his leg, his leg shudders and gives out under him. May stumbles forward, unbalanced, clumsily tripping into Rita causing both of them to tumble onto the floor: May falling on top; Rita positioned awkwardly underneath. He couldn't resist glancing at her bosom, nor could he fight the urge to, passionately, stroke her bodice. Instead he fondles her hair out her face.

This time it was her turn to speak first, "May, please... be...be gentle" Rita blushes, "You need to rest." Rita reminds him, but she couldn't deny the pleasure she felt being in a compellingly helpless situation. Her body tingled with weakness as gleeful thoughts filled her with guilt. She was warm.

"How can I rest when I don't have a clue where I'm at or what's going on, B-Man...Brock has a fiancee. Where am I?" May stands curiously examining the room that was his infirmary.

Typical May the perceptive sceptic, she wanted so badly to tell him, _'You're safe now, I brought you home.'_ That she knew was a lie though. Speechless she grabs her gown squeezing tight and shutting her eyes.

"Rita-Angela!" A bright-eyed young girl sweeps into the room full of cheer, "Ashley-Maria sent me to tell you that father can't find his expensive Irish whiskey. Oh and lunch is ready." She looks at May with obvious fascination.

"Hello, handsome, so you're the one causing all the commotion. I don't see what the big fuss is all about you look harmless to me." She loops her arm inside his charmingly, "Allow me, the privlidge of escort you to our dining room, where civilized people eat." She gives a playful giggle as she begins leading May towards the door.

* * *

 **The adventure continues. . . I took a little bit of extra time drawing this one up, but I threw something extra in there for your patience. Thank you all for taking the time to read a thousand, plus, words: to show my appreciation please check back next week for an update.**


	10. Respite and Recovery: Conclusion

**Welcome back again viewers. Once again I begin with a blank canvas, every keystroke splattered paint, until eventually I've created art. So let's start.**

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"It's true what they say, isn't it, about you being the culprit who ended a corrupt reign?" The cheerful girl, with blonde curls; whose name May did not know implies. Despite being the first to arrive the table was already set, as if everyone were seated. May's chaperone unloops their arms and picks a spot to sit. She stares at May expecting, hands on her hips, "So you're just going to stand there, what are you waiting for, an official invitation? Pull out my chair." May lets out a deep exhale, doing as he's requested so as not to offend his host.

May's nurse comes in carrying a steaming pot of, boiled, winter crab legs and roasted turkey, glazed with pineapples and honey. The lineup was absolutely mouthwatering. She is surprised to see him walking, so surprised in fact, the nurse nearly drops everything she held. Regardless of her best efforts May is scalded, accidentally, with the contents of the pot soaking his bandages, "You shouldn't be moving around so soon, you should be in bed; resting." She tells him rushing to alleviate his pain.

Whilst having ointment applied to his injuries and his soggy bandages changed, Tina enters the room caring the last of the food for the feast: fried chicken and fish, pork dumplings, pork chops, and grilled ham. It all looked so very delicious, he could hardly wait to savor the flavors. Tina sighs, heavily, looking at the arrangement with a satisfied smirk on her face: she unties the apron from her waist and slings it on the back of a chair, before placing her bottom on it.

Like hounds attracted by the scent of the hunt, from down the hallway, the two drunk men can be heard coming long before they wobble into the room, "Gwa-haha: hic-hiccup. You must show me-" The rest of his words are slurred and incoherent, however, B-Man bursts into laughter anyway; as they enter the dining room Rita enters in last. Sneaking in almost undetected had the stern-faced man not noticed her, announcing her presence for all to hear, "Gwa-haha, and here she comes now. I swear to you, this child of mine stole the face of my beloved." The large man's eyes being to water but no tears fall.

"The spitting image, you're right." B-Man says as he pretends to inspect her features for the first time.

"The replica of an angel. With the hair of a ruby."Rita mocks, before the big man can be drawn in by his sentiment. Rita turns her attention to May, "Allow me to introduce you to my family. These are my two sisters, Ashley-Maria, she's the one who nursed you to health; you already met my big-mouthed little sister, Cassandra-Chelsey, and the big softy is my father."

"Name's Goar, Goar Pineweed." He states needing no further introduction, extending a broad palm, May should've known better then to accept a handshake but being a good guest compelled him otherwise. The moment May extends his hand, Goar grabs him by the wrist and pulls him into a big hearty hug. The unpleasantness of the moment grew with each passing second, with the air being squeezed out of him, the overpowering odor of booze, and the stench of the large man's sweat. It takes, what seems like, forever for him to release May from his powerful embrace. After realizing May was on the verge of passing out, being crushed in his arms.

With everyone gathered, the feasting is able to commence and no one was more pleased than May. After sleeping for a week straight he felt he could eat for a week straight, May never felt so starved. With a fistful of drumsticks in one hand and a hunk of ham in the other, multiple crab legs in his mouth, and already reaching for the hamburgers: May stuffs his mouth full consuming anything he could get his hands on in merely a few bites.

"Wow, he eats like a wildebeest; so unrefined." C.C. remarks.

I've never seen someone scarf down so much food in so little bites. Do you ever chew?" Tina says, surprised too. Not to be outdone B-man and Goar quickly finish their portions before grabbing another helping, eating faster, and both failing to keep pace with a ravished May; falling behind forced to throw in the napkin. In Goar's case, the large man was slumped back in his chair, asleep, still gnawing on a piece of turkey.

"He has an insatiable appetite, and is a glutton for pain." Ashley-Maria states bewildered. All the while May continues to devour and pile plates. Until at last he places his utensils down, belches, and drains his mug. Delighted, May reclines back full to the brim; rubs his belly satisfied while using a fishbone to pick his teeth.

"Yum-my! Talk about a feeding frenzy. Oh boy, I can't remember a time I ate this well; I feel like I could run the length of the entire grand line." May jokes, feeling a surge of energy after all the food had disappeared.

Meanwhile, a passed out Goar was being ushered to his bedroom by C.C. and Ashley-Maria, to sleep off a food-hangover and nurse the other. At the same time, Tina starts collecting the plates and clearing the table as Rita washed dishes in the kitchen, "You're going to have to tell me this story." May says referring to their engagement, "I still can't wrap my head around anything that's happening, I feel out of place; distorted."

B-Man pulls out a cigar and ignites it, taking several long puffs before exhaling a cloud of smoke, "A lot has transpired since that day, at the warehouse, and so much has changed: so quickly. I don't think anyone's had time to properly adapt, and I assure you no one is going to be the same; least of all you." B-Man gives May a look full of remorse. May can't help but think about his, precious, younger sister and all the other children. Caught between fire and flames: trapped inside the blaze of the inferno, suffocated and burned alive. A fate undeserving rendered upon unfortunate young souls.

B-Man can see the uncertainty behind May's eyes, "After I was shot and you rescued me from the burning warehouse, when I came to, I woke up in a restaurant."

"Why are you telling me that?"

B-Man takes another deep pull of his cigar, "I don't know. All I'm saying is, after everything we've been through all we can do is find comfort in those who are with us now." B-Man lets his words linger on. As May sits lost in thought, considering what B-Man said, the ladies return from the kitchen bringing strawberry and lime pie with a smoothie for dessert.

"What are you two in here gossiping about?" Tina inquires, wiping damp hands on her pants-leg.

"I was just telling May here, how we got engaged." B-Man says shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Did you also mention that you collaborated his rescue from the gallows, or did you leave that part out too?" Tina says sitting on her fiancees lap with an alluring smile. "I've never seen a man more determined."

B-Man scratches his neck, "True, I had a small part in it but, honestly, the real mastermind here." He gestures toward Rita, "She more resourceful than I initially gave her credit for. It was thanks to her we were able to find you, at Koin's, when we did. She even convinced her father to harbor you here." He ashes his cigar in the ashtray trading it for his smoothie.

May stares at Rita in a way he never knew he could, seeing her in an entirely new light, when it finally dawns upon him, "Wait, what do you mean harbor!? Hold on-one second." The alarm in his voice was equally tempered by his outrage.

Before he can be upset by the bad news, Rita informs May about the recent developments on the island, "You're a fugitive; wanted by the local navy base, although everyone thinks you're dead, and rightfully so. In your condition anyone would've long kicked the bucket." She trails of momentarily trying to choose better words, ones that didn't sound so foolish, "Although, the navy insists if that is the truth then a body should be produced. They're very persistent trying to establish a relationship and fester cooperation with the people now. Ugh-they make me sick." She wears a disgusted expression, solidifying her statement.

May becomes silent before smiling and feigning acceptance, "Well that's alright this whole thing will blow over, and before you know it things'll be back to the way they were; but better with Koin out of the picture." Pleased with his statement he reads everyone's expression making certain they were convinced, even though he was the one most in need of convincing.

"You're right." Rita agrees, hopefully, "And I can have my sister, Cassandra-Chelsey, make you some new clothes, she can sew practically anything."

"I did have a particular style, if I could make a request." May says looking at his wrappings.

* * *

 **The adventure continues. . . I know this is last weeks update and while I won't appologize for this delay, I would like you all to know I work an extremely hard doing what I do: sometimes extensive thought is required. Rather than uploading something I feel is incomplete and mediocre. You deserve my best and that's what I strive for, every-time.**


	11. May I Ease my Mind

**In regard to last week's late update, this week I won't be attempting anything too extravagant or spectacular. Instead, I will begin sketching an outline with some implications on a major plot. Also I have been considering a main villian for this arc so keep that in mind as you read through (throwing it out there for anyone interested).**

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May stands in the center of an inferno: flames crackling and fire blazing all around him as screams are muffled and choked off by smoke. Countless voices cry for help, souls crying out in unimaginable pain, combusted; consumed by hell. A mute May runs unscathed through the inferno, shouting to no avail, desperately, searching for innocents to rescue. May wakes from his nightmare sweating profusely. He gasps for air breaking out into a coughing frenzy, nearly heaving out his lungs before crashing face first into the canvas.

May glances toward the clock hanging above the door, ticking, it was currently 06:10. Interestingly enough the house was completely quiet, a silence May was not accustomed to especially at this hour. It leaves him emotionally exposed and feeling vulnerable. His thoughts start swimming and his mind begins racing. Rather than wallow in misery, May decides to train regardless if his nurse advised against it, otherwise. Besides he felt rested plenty after being bed ridden for the better part of two weeks. After all that time resting and recuperating strength May hadn't lost a step, instead improving upon his conditioning and leaving him feeling reinvigorated.

May bathes before reapplying ointment and changing his bandages as instructed the night before; by Ashley-Maria. Although the bruising disappeared and swelling went away, she insisted periodically, checking his condition making sure no unexpected developments occurred. It almost irritated him she was so concerned, nonetheless, he appreciated her consideration. May pauses in front of a mannequin examining the garments it wore, the threads were probably more expensive than everything he owned combined.

When Rita said her sister could sew, practically, anything he thought she was merely exaggerating, however, her synopsis was a vast understatement of Cassandra-Chelsey's talent. It didn't require the appreciative eye of a fashionista to see the tailoring was absolutely exquisite: completed by the hand of an expert tailor. The designs were intricately sewn into the fabric to the extent you'd think it was part of the material itself; one hundred tiny skull-snowflakes on the trousers and one large on the backside of the shirt, the outfit worked and shaped to his exact measurements. He was hardly expecting a new outfit by the time he woke, the next morning.

Once fully dressed in his new attire May slips outside only to resume training dedicating his mind and body to honing his skills. The morning breeze whispers a promising forecast, turbulent winds accompanied by clear skies and sunshine. On the brink of exhaustion May reclines back, relaxing, in the snow: body tingling and sweat pouring off his brows and streaming down his face. Whilst relaxing May allows his thoughts to roam, unrestricted, unrestrained; he envisions himself drifting. Not toward some predetermined destination, either, simply drifting: carried by the waves journeying to some unknown location. May returns to reality, alerted by the sound of approching footsteps scrunching through snow.

Before he has a chance to open his eyes, without ever saying a word they drop a piece of cloth over his face, blinding him momentarily, immediately May recognizes the familiar scent of his scarf intertwined with the smell of a soft and pleasant perfume, "If you don't keep warm you'll catch a cold, blockhead." Rita stares down at May bundled up in nothing but her nightgown, her bare legs exposed from her kneecaps all the way to her ankles; ending at her fur slippers.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Yield. Yield." Yipping and barking frantically a team of sled dogs, pulling a sleigh, comes to a halt in front of May and Rita: the courier hops off addressing Rita, "Top of the morning to you ma'am, I come delivering today's paper." He hands her a newspaper before pulling off a mitten, and taking a long sip of hot chocolate from a container strapped around his neck. Without ever taking her eyes off the headline, Rita tosses a coin to the courier. He catches it out the air with a satisfied expression, smirking, as he flips the coin up high before catching it and placing it in a pouch alongside the others.

"Yah, yah. Mush, mush!" Responding to his authority the dogs race off kicking up a cloud of snow in their wake. Quietly, Rita makes her way to the house eyes glued to the article she was reading, leaving May to wonder: what's the big scoop? B-Man looks over the newspaper, Rita handed to him, and apparent from the look on his face something was clearly wrong.

"So, is someone going to spill the beans, or wha-" May snatches the newspaper and takes a peak, the headline read: Navy Captain, Perry Seagull, set to return to Coconut Island; 09:00. Furthermore, another article making the headline, accompanied by a picture of an empty cell: Koin escapes his cell. May drops the paper in disbelief, unable to continue reading, "How could this happen, where's the justice?" May clenches his fist, anger building slowly.

"Koin has a lot of associates, in high places; not to mention he probably still has the local enforcement in his pocket. We were too hopeful; this is the result of our leniency." Rita says sympathetically.

"But look on the bright side of things, will ya, that criminal can no longer preside over us and now that he's officially recognized as one." B-Man picks up the newspaper off the floor showing off the promo on the reverse side: Elections. Place your ballots and vote, today!

"And who's going to run, you?" May says, playfully, looking at B-Man sarcastically, "All jokes aside I don't think the inhabitants could handle another tyrant, or dictator for that matter. Besides this is happening so suddenly, I don't think anyone's going to warm up to the idea of a new mayor."

Rita points to a section on the newspaper, "It said, here, that they'll be closing the port." Rita brings the column to their attention.

"A blockade. This doesn't bode well; I got a bad feeling about this." B-Man contemplates their meaning, momentarily, before something else, elaborately lying between the pages is revealed. An old bounty poster, reinstated, for 17.5 million berri almost going unnoticed finally makes sense: Ma D. Lotus. "This doesn't seem like a coincidence." B-Man stares at May with a look of terrible concern.

"What's not a coincidence?" Both May and Rita ask almost simultaneously.

"It's 08:30, May. You have to go, now!" The expression on his face told May he was serious.

"Go? Go where?" May asks confused.

"No time to explain, you have to leave this island; you can't stay here." B-Man grips May's hand and pulls him close, "Take this opportunity to see the world. We'll meet again my friend." As they separate May looks at his palm, B-Man gives May his black baby transponder snail, a parting gift.

"Go to the dock and show it to Guzman, he'll know what to do." B-Man gives May a heartfelt smile, "You've been nothing but a little brother to me, and I couldn't be anymore proud." B-Man finishes his sentence and quickly turns around, eyes stinging, prideful as ever.

May takes that as his cue to leave, knowing any showing off emotion would make their parting more difficult but he looks at Rita: a lingering stare expressing the truth; their truth. May hesitantly walks toward the door, but then he remembers Amy; his most cherished little sister. He remembers the final words of his grandfather: _To my dearest May, Something lies yonder; over the horizon. Search out for your everlasting dreams and always persist, forward, even in the face of adversity. Cherish your precious memories; make the most of everyday. There's an entire world full of adventure underneath the vast blue sky and the ocean is full of endless possibilities. Go outlive the sea and witness your wildest imaginations come true._

Overflowing with courage May bravely steps outside allowing his, bare, feet to do what they've done since they've learned how: walk. He breaks into a sprint, pursuing unknown possibilities, running toward the prospect of an exciting journeys beginning.

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 **The adventure continues... Once again, thank you for your continued interest, and to show my appreciation I'll invest more effort into establishing a regular update routine. Reserve me 15mins in your schedule, and I'll have another extension of the story for all you by next weekend.**


	12. May I borrow your boat?

**Hello and welcome back everyone. I hope everyone is having a safe and joyous day, on this pirate's day: Columbus Day. Let me remind you, Columbus wasn't part of the royal navy; nor was he just an explorer. His ship had cannons. His crew drunk rum. The rest is his-story. In light of this occasion this October will feature "compressed" updates (Multiple pictures in one upload; more than 1000 words). Now, no further delay** **.**

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May arrives at the dock and for some reason, unknown to himself, he couldn't pinpoint precisely but no matter what circumstances led to his current predicament, this was his purpose. Exactly what "this" was he couldn't say, however, he was certain; beyond all doubt he was moving toward his destiny: things were better this way. He looks around the dock for someone but no one was around, the entire area appeared to be empty except for a single shack.

The shack was weathered beyond recognition and the wood was so worn May thought the place might be abandoned, had it not been for a single column of smoke billowing from the stone chimney indicating otherwise. May knocks on the door waiting several moments, but no one answers. Instead he walks around to the side and peeks into the, sole, window. An old, withered, woman suddenly emerges from behind the shack, unseen, "Scram! Be on your hay, you hooligan." For an elderly woman she moves with an unexpected quickness, catching May unaware, swinging the broad end of her broomstick.

"I'm not a hooligan, ma'am, and don't you mean "way"?" May shields himself from the barrage of the broomstick, silently chuckling to himself at how soft the blows actually were.

"Your a sentry too short, boy, to be giving me a lecture on grammar." She swings her makeshift weapon, agitated with May's lackluster performance.

"I doubt you're a year over a century" May teases while ducking underneath a strike, "the way you're swinging that broomstick." Wearing a smirk he avoids her again, confident, slowly figuring out how to anticipate the exact moment a strike would be coming. May takes a step back putting a little distance between them so he could speak, "Someone told me to come here, B-Man, said-" The elderly woman lurches at him again broomstick held high, except this time she grabs his leg with the hook of her cane; pulls hard enough to lift him off his feet. She presses her cane on his throat, applying actual pressure while tapping his face with the handle of the broomstick.

The old lady triumphantly places a heel on his chest, firmly planting him on the ground, "Don't you dare fly to me, boy." She says striking his cheeck, mistaking her words again, and misunderstanding the intention of a threat as she continues to strike him. In his final attempt to convince her he meant no harm, May shows her the baby transponder snail that he received from B-Man, earlier that morning. Surprisingly she stops her onslaught, allowing May to get to his feet.

"Where did you get that, who did you steal it from?" She accuses May before he can completely stand.

"I didn't steal it." May replies defensively, "A friend of mine gave it to me; he said that Guzman could help me, if I came here. Is he around anywhere I have something urgent I need to speak with him about."

The elderly woman tears up showing a softer, less prickly side, "Brocky Bear, you know my Brocky Bear. Well cry didn't you say so." She gives him a sentimental look encouraging him to come closer. Quick as a cobra she strikes him one final time with the end of her cane, "Come inside, or if you prefer I could heat you senseless and drag you in there myself." She smirks, satisfied, casting a wicked smile toward May. Not needing any further coasting he follows her inside the shack, rubbing his neck.

Despite the exterior of the shack being run down, beyond all recognition, the interior was well maintained and moderately furnished; though the shack held no fancy decorations the walls contained memories, "So, what terrible trouble has my Brocky Bear gotten himself into now? He always was a hoodlum, up to no good." The elderly woman ushers May to take a seat on the sofa.

"Won't you indulge an old woman. It's been ages since I've had company, death might be my next visitor." The elderly woman notices May periodically checking the clock on the wall and remains silent.

May glances over at the clock again, 8:57, "I don't think he's in any trouble, ma'am, in fact he's actually helping a friend avoid unnecessary problems." May's gaze returns to the clock, " Look, ma'am, I'm really pressed for time" he stops himself gaging her expression before retracing his previous remark, "However, I suppose I could spare a few minutes." He finishes with a friendly smile, sitting on the sofa.

With renewed vigor the elderly woman walks into the kitchen to fetch some tea and muffins. In the meantime, May allows his eyes to wander the small shack viewing the miscellaneous pictures; in frames too numerous to count. All the pictures seem to be centered around a little boy, present in all the pictures, accompanied by either a man or a woman: the combination of both or neither at all.

"Is this kid Guzman?" May inquires.

She walks out of the kitchen with a steamning teapot, and delicious smelling strawberry muffins, "Nope. That there's my little Brocky Bear, before he grew into that mountain of a man you know today." She chuckles reminiscent in the nostalgia of days past, "I have trouble recognizing the boy from the man, such is life."

May nods his agreement munching on a muffin and speaking in between bites, "He told...me to come here...and speak to Guzman." May finishes his sentence and grabs another muffin off the tray, "Not some old, hag, lady."

"I am Guzman, and you'll show some proper respect for your elders, hooligan." Irritated she waves a feeble first at him, warning. She reclines, slowly rocking, in a rocking chair sipping her tea, "So, Mr. What's-your-name? Buy is it so important we speak; without being properly introduced?"

Even though she was a senile, old, crone he had to admit: she made a valid point, "I apologize for my disrespect" May bows his head shamefully, "My name is May D. Lotus, my age is 19 years, I'm from Cacoon city, and my favorite color is purple."

"Well May, it's very rice to meet you. My name is Abigale Guzman, widow of Marcus Guzman. I won't reveal my age, instead I'll inform you: I'm Brocky's foster mother. So what is it that you'd like to discuss?" Guzman says as she continues sipping and rocking rhythmically in her chair.

"I never knew B-Brock was an orphan, he never mentioned it to me." May processes this new information, but it's not overly surprising rather obtaining insight. May sighs, heavily, having a fuller understanding, recognizing both the boy and the man, "I want to leave the Wa'Khi Island: May I borrow your boat."

Guzman scoffs at his request, "Live me one good reason I should give you my boat" She smiles looking at May expecting, "Well don't keep me waiting too long, I'm snot getting any younger." At first he thought she was joking but her expression remains serious.

For one reason or another he couldn't reply, at an utter loss for words, May takes a long, thoughtful, swig of tea draining his cup before finally responding, "Truthfully, I don't think I can. Please forgive me. I apologize for interrupting your morning." May lets off another large sigh, when something compels him to speak honestly. The old lady had a reassuring demeanor and he felt comfortable speaking with her, even if she was demanding and probably suffered from dementia.

"Actually, for a long time I've been complicit letting time pass me by, like a statue. But now that the gears are in motion, for the first time; in a long while I feel inspired. Hmph, and no matter what I tell myself, in my heart, I know I can't remain the same. It's impossible." May nods his head in affirmation, turning his attention to Guzman waiting for a response.

The old woman rocks peacefully in her chair, with her eyes closed and a smile on her face. May's cue to leave, he gently places a cover over the elderly woman providing respite from the morning draft, and quietly shows himself out the shack: she peeks open an eye grinning with a satisfied look. May gently closes the door and makes his way to the pier, where the boat was moored. As he unfastens the fixings from the side posts the shadow of someone, suddenly, appears behind him.

May turns around expecting to be hit by the old woman, however, he's more surprised to see Rita standing in front of him, "You nearly scared the life out of me; I thought you were the old hag."

"The old who? " Rita asks puzzled. "Why are you still here, it's a quarter past nine."

"Never mind. Hurry up and help me with this would you, or did you come here to convince me to stay?"

Rita punches his arm playfully, "And here I was thinking you'd try talking me out of going "

"Wh-wait." May's smile is erased by astonishment, "You're coming with me"

Rita shrugs her shoulders, already in the boat, setting her knapsack to the side as she kicks her feet over the side, carefree. Leaving May to finish untying the ropes to their, unimpressive, little paddle boat.

May glares at her, "You know, when you said you were coming with me, I thought you'd at least be of some use. Or at least help pull your weight." May protests: arms aching from nine hours of nonstop rowing while she simply stared at the sky, daydreaming, lost in thought.

"I am helping. I'm watching our course, making sure we don't stray...b-u-u-ut if you think you could do better-" She trails off allowing him to recall the last time they switched positions: May dozes off in a moment of inattention and the boat strays into unsteady waters. They get caught in the pull a whirlpool, nearly being capsized and drug to the bottom of the sea; before that May drops the compass in the water causing them to stray deep into seaking territory, where they narrowly escape the wrath an angry seaking. Not once but twice.

"On second thought."

"I knew you'd reconsider." She smiles, yawning, stretching, and relaxing.

In the western horizon the sun had long since set, and the last glimmer of daylight was quickly disappearing. After a long grueling day of paddling May's arms were so sore they felt like they were about ready to fall off; not to mention his burning shoulders, his aching back, and spaghetti legs. Rita let's out a sharp whistle, closing her telescope and returning it to her knapsack. After a short while May hears another whistle, returned, "Isn't it amazing how much further sound can travel on top of the waves. This is a technique sailors used to help guide their boats to shore when they couldn't spot the lighthouse." Rita take a large inhale, embracing the smell of the port and all the different scents combined.

In all the time May had known her, Rita seemed at that moment to be the most happiest he'd ever seen her. It was actually refreshing and he finds himself grinning foolishly. He rushes toward her so he could see for himself, the sight of the approaching island, and at the top of his lungs May yells, "Land-ho!"

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 **The adventure continues... Recently, I've been experiencing some rather turbulent times, and regretfully it interferes with my update frequency. However, my storytelling will not diminish as a result; if anything the story shall flourish. I'll give you all a glimpse as May reflects my misfortune and through his eyes: my sight becomes an illusion. Goodbye everyone, and until next time.**


	13. May I help you?

**I've revised and reconsidered, reread and rewritten this chapter numerous times but somehow I feel like something's missing. I can't quite place my finger on it, which makes this extremely difficult.** **I took a little extra time but now that I've had a chance to collaborate, cooperate, and combine the separate parts of my mind: another fragment of the story.**

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"Ahoy, matey!" A masculine man shouts from atop a watchtower.

"Ahoy!" May replies, overly excited about the prospect of a hot meal and a warm bed.

"How may I help you!?" The man asks, although his tone held more of a how much berri can I juice outta you.

"Could you point us in the direction of the nearest tavern or Inn?"

"Ye-ah, I suppose I could, you seem like nice enough people."

May expects the masculine man to drop the chain net and permit them access to the harbor. However, the net never moves so May calls out, "Which way!?"

"I'm not sure I should, I'm not easily bought, matey, but maybe some reassurances. Maybe you might have some incentives instead because I can't quite seem to remember; could you refresh my memory." The man scratches behind his head, as if he was having trouble recalling something significant.

May laughs, "I'm a generous guy, really, but this is my first time to this island; it's not fair expecting me to have any valuable information: worthy a man of your stature."

The masculine man becomes victim, sharing a laughable moment with May, "Touchè, matey, head south until the fork in the road then make a left until you reach the sign. Tonight I'll hafta settle for just a docking fee."

May continues chuckling, "I'm willing to pay but the thing is, I'm broke."

This time the man doesn't share in May's sentiment casting a frown downward at their dingy boat, "Honestly, May, you don't know when to be serious." Rita tosses the masculine man a few coins for the hassle, "Would you please permit us access to the harbor now, we're weary from our days travel." Once paid, without hesitation, the man drops the net allowing them to pass unhindered into the port.

Following the directions the masculine man gave them May and Rita arrive at a fork in the road, unmistakable, as they approach they observe a disturbing scene: several thugs harass a scrawny kid, "Swim out of here, fish face, we don't need your kind polluting the air with your stench." One thug says, shoving the dolphin-boy to the ground kicking and stomping the helpless boy.

"Teach this trash, half-human, a good lesson in mannerisms." Another thug says, presumably the ringleader, instigating the assault and encouraging the final thug to join the mix. The entire scene was, downright, disgusting revealing a darker shade of humanity. Undeniably it was unpleasant to witness the unprovoked mistreatment of another human-being, despite genetic differences, and enough to make Rita uncomfortable. She would cringe for the boy with each blow suffered.

The actions of the three thugs could be described in three words, "Pathetic. Pitiful. Prejudice." May comments aloud as he walks past; once they were in earshot.

"What did you just say!? Why don't you try repeating that a little louder, this time, so we all can hear you." The ringleader demands casting a hostile look at May.

"You heard what I said. Your pals were smarter, pretending to be deaf. Although, if you're hard of hearing I could spell it out for you." May shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, "Frankly, I don't think you're intelligent enough to read, so unless you speak sign language: step aside." Rather than allowing them to part, May confidently strides past the thug trio.

Speechless the thug places his hand on May's shoulder, irritated by his lack of fear and respect for them, "Hey you, ignorant son-of-a-bitch, don't you dare walk off: I ain't done talking." May grabs the man by the wrist with one hand, and just above the elbow with the other. Switching directions, turning on his pivot, May flips the man over his shoulder slamming him into the ground head first. Leaving the thug singing an entirely different tune.

"Sorry, you were saying?" May asks with a cocky tone, not expecting a response, he towers over the unconscious man before looking at the other two thugs, "Yo! Pathetic. Pitiful. Stop standing there and drag Prejudice out of here. Unless you want to end up the same." Without their weakling ringleader woke the cowards, obediently, obey rushing away along the right trail rather than risk winding up "flat-out-cold".

Once the thugs were out of sight Rita tries to help the young boy to his feet, however, he refuses her aid standing on his own brushing dirt off himself; rushing after his perpetrators, "What was that all about?" Rita gives May a quizzical look.

May shrugs, "Dunno, I have no clue, some people are so ungrateful. They ain't even thank me for letting 'em off easy."

Rita gives May her patent be 'for-real' stare, "I know you're not that conceited, May. That kid's mother might be worried sick. I'm sorry but I have a problem watching terrible things unfold, especially if there's something I can do to prevent the worst from happening. No matter how insignificant it may seem." Rita smiles at May reassured by his grumbling stomach, she grabs his hand in hers, and they continue walking along the left-hand trail making their way to their destination unhindered, hand-in-hand, without further incident. Until they arrive outside the tavern. Inside a commotion can be overheard.

"I'm going to make sure you regret showing your, ugly, fish-face around here! If you've got gills you get no meals. That's the deal." An angry person shouts followed by the sound of a series of shrieks of terror and whimpers of pain, carried throughout the tavern and heard outside. Despite being full of people, no one attempts to de-escalate the situation. Rather, the exact opposite happens and people begin to voice their dissatisfaction; making known their displeasure.

"I've completely lost my appetite" Another person says shoving their plate away while holding their nose.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to be sick." Someone else inputs copying the exact gesture as the previous person, covering their mouth to indicate they might actually hurl.

While a few of the more rowdy patrons bang on the table and shout in unison, "Gills: No meals, Gills: No meals." Battered and beaten bloody the young dolphin-boy, from before, is thrown out onto the streets, blood pouring from multiple injuries. Outside a majority of people pass by pretending to have seen and heard nothing, continuing with their everyday routines, while the young boy lies in the gutter; in a puddle of his own blood. A few linger making snide remarks and nasty comments while normal children point and laugh, throwing actual sticks and stones.

Once more Rita runs to the rescue shooing away the remaining crowd before attempting to assist him to his feet. Instead of accepting a helping hand he slaps her hand away, "Leave me alone! Quit interfering with me. I never asked you for your help so you can save your pity, outsider; I don't need it." The dolphin-boy's confrontational attitude garners unwarranted attention causing several spectators to glance their direction, each wearing a face of contempt and disdain. Frustrated by the scorn filled stares he was receiving the dolphin-boy yells at the faces of the onlookers, "I hate-hate-hate humans!" With those final words he staggers away, stumbling down a dark alleyway, and although he was mad, May could hear hurt in the young boy's words.

From the moment May and Rita walk into the tavern they are, immediately, greeted with friendly service, welcomed in and ushered to a table to be seated. It was hard to imagine just a few moments prior anything significant happened, everyone was so hospitable. Shortly after being seated their hostsess arrives carrying a tray with two empty mugs atop, "Name's Susie. I'll be taking care of you, young couple, tonight. 'Though this is hardly the most romantic joint for a first date." Susie hawks a chunky wad of spit in one mug, using a cloth rag hung on her apron to wipe the mug clean, to a sparkling pristine finish.

Rita becomes flushed becoming a shade brighter in the face fumbling over her words as she fidgets with a lone strand of hair, "We're not a couple, just two hungry travelers trying to get a hot meal and a warm room."

"Yeah, one of us is actually exhausted; from rowing all day." May's comment receives him a kick to his shin underneath the table, "Ouch, what I say?" He protest reeling in pain.

"So?! What can I get for y'all, tonight, we have two options plus the every-night special: hell-fire wings or grilled goat burgers and the special includes two of our, world famous, tacos with a cup of chunky-fish soup."

"I'll have the hell-fire wings." Rita says.

"Gimme a goat burger and I'll try your "world-famous" tacos, but take the soup to go." May says.

"Alrighty, then sit tight and I'll be back in ten." Susie, their hostess, walks toward a small window looking into the kitchen and yells, "Order of Hell-Fire! One Goat. Royal Taco special! Drinks to table nine. Hurry up, Isa, the young couple's trying to enjoy their first date." Susie makes sure to shout the last part extra loud rousing the other patrons. They respond accordingly by cheering and whooping, clashing silverware on raised glass mugs and banging fists on tables. If Rita was flushed before this magnitude of attention had her completely flustered. She sits silently with her head down and her hair obscuring her face, so May couldn't see her expression making it harder to read her emotions: she quietly traces the stitching on her dress with a finger.

A girl not much younger than May comes to their table carrying a pitcher of dark gold ale. She smiles at May pouring Rita's drink first, "You two make a beautiful couple; your girlfriend's really attractive." No sooner than Isa finishes filling her cup, to the brim, before the foam could fully settle; before Isa could completely pour May his drink. Rita drains the entire contents of her mug, viciously, chugging the bubbly larger without so much as spilling a sip. Afterwards, she slams her mug down with authority, requiring a refill, releasing a resounding belch that sets the entire tavern to laughing, "And it seems she comes with a sailor's thirst." Isa remarks, impressed, praising Rita as she pours another round for her.

"Order up!" The cook shouts as plates suddenly appear on the countertop: behind comes the sound of pans frying, something sizzling, and fire hissing as flames shoot up on the other side.

Susie returns carrying food in each hand, "One deliciously grilled goat burger for the gentleman." Their hostess places a whole burger, the size of May's head in front of him with buns as big as the plate they were on, "For the young woman, freshly fried chicken wings, drowned in our signature flames of hell sauce; not for the faint hearted." Susie places an eye stinging platter before Rita drowned in, blood, red sauce emitting a wave of heat all on its own, making the nearby atmosphere arid. Unceremoniously the entire tavern becomes deathly quiet, watching; waiting.

Rita takes a wing off the plate and bites into it with no hesitation: half the tavern gasps holding their breath while the other half gulp, terrified, fully aware of the consequences. Immediately, her eyes begin to water as the whole tavern waits with labored anticipation, "This. . .is...soo, good!" Rita shouts grabbing another hell-fire wing, and another, and another. The entire tavern nearly falls out of their chairs, equally shocked. Rita enjoys her entire meal not so much as breaking a single sweat, and downing three more healthy sized mugs of ale in addition to her first two.

"She's certainly remarkable, yep, a keeper for sure." Susie remarks wiping her lips clean after draining a mug herself.

On the other hand, May had already finished his gigantic goat burger, currently, two-thirds into his second cup of ale with a taco in each hand, "I've never seen someone with such a large appetite, either." Isa comments.

In amazement the chef steps out the kitchen to witness the spectacle, "In all my years as a top-notch cook, not once has someone been able to tolerate the spicy-hot zest of my wings; nor has anybody been able to eat an entire goat burger: plus two of my tasty tacos." The chef sheds tears of joy, watching the young couple enjoy his food. He approaches their table, and personally brings May his soup to-go, "Thank you, the both of you." He bows his head in respect before proudly raising his head high, "I feel like I've learned a valuable lesson. Allow me to equally reward you both. Tonight your meal is on the house." With their hunger satisfied they graciously accept the chef's generous offer.

With a full belly and their purse none the lighter the duo make their way to the inn. Although the inn was no more than a kilometer from the tavern with Rita stumbling every other step, and leaning all over May their trek seemed much further. Despite having a petite figure as May quickly discovered, Rita was no lightweight, especially when it involved alcohol. Exhausted from shouldering clumsy weight, halfway to the inn, May stops to rest for a moment. In the corner of his peripheral May notices something in an alley-way.

Using a cardboard box as a makeshift bed the dolphin-boy rests with an old newspaper covering his torso. In his sleep the boy appeared to be in a lot of pain, covered head to toe in scrapes and bruises. He stirs in the midst of a nightmare and evident from the sound of his grumbling stomach, he was no stranger to the pang of hunger. Without ever saying a word or disturbing the boy's sleep, May places the soup next to the dolphin-boy and returns to babysit Rita.

After a brief break and a dozen misplaced steps they arrive at the steps of the Inn. May rings the bell at the desk signaling the attendant on duty, "Room for two." May tells the attended.

"Room for one" The attendant winks at May, "Found yourself an easy one, did-ya, someone intends on getting lucky tonight." Taken aback by how blunt his statement is May stutters trying to find a response.

"W-what...I-It's not like that, you've got the wrong idea." The bellhop's skeptical stare speaks volume, "She's a dear friend and I'd never take advantage of her, in any way." May says sounding more convincing than he actually looked, one hand tightly holds her arm around his neck; while the other placed firmly around her hips holds her close for stability.

Unconvinced the attendant lazily rolls his eyes, "Alrighty, alright, I believes ya. But unfortunately, the only room we have is a single. If you still want it, it'll cost 1,500 berri." He blinks several times expecting May to give him the payment.

"What-cha staring at me for. I don't carry money; I'm broke." May says cheerfully with a smile on his face.

"Hiccup. Honestly, May, what am I to do with you: hiccup. That's not something to proudly boast about. Don't worry though, I'll let you take advantage of me all you want; I won't tell a single soul." She leans close whispering, seductively, into his ear, "It can be our big se•c•ret." Rita laughs making fun of the expression on May's face: steam seems to stream from his ears and his eyes bulge wide open with a dumbfounded grin, imagining the fulfillment of a perverse fantasy.

The smirk on the face of the bellhop revealed his thoughts, thinking the situation to be humorous. After recieving their payment he escorts them to their room, unlocking the door with a master key before placing a pair of keys in May's palm, "Leave the keys in the tray, on the dresser, when you're finished. Enjoy your stay." The second they are alone in the room, Rita collapses on the mattress like a fallen log and the moment her head hits the pillow she's out like a candle. Leaving May to find a spot on the floor. May yawns stretching out grabbing a cushion for comfort he reclines back, closing his eyes, soon joining Rita in dreamland.

The next morning Rita awakens late in the afternoon. She glances around the room, quickly, taking in her surroundings. May was nowhere to be seen. She catches a view of her reflection in the mirror and has to do a double take, barely able to recognize the hideous creature who woke up on the wrong side of the bed. One whiff of herself producing a strong, unfeminine, odor is enough for her; she decides to take a brief moment to practice proper hygiene. She was still a lady despite having the personality of a tomboy.

May walks in sweat-drenched shirt slung over one shoulder, glistening from a morning workout, biceps bulging with the veins running along his forearm exposed. Pouring sweat drips down his abdomen making his six-pack shine rigorously. May examines the room, not seeing Rita anywhere. May steps out of his trousers making his way to the shower, but as he reaches for the handle the doorknob suddenly twists and Rita opens the door.

Standing in the middle of the doorway, less than a foot away, May gets a golden view. Rather than having a towel over her midsection, the towel wrapped around her head was the only article of clothing she wore. May's jaw slacks and he tries to hide it by covering his eyes, to no avail, fingers spread wide; other things are not so easily concealed, "MAY! ! YOU PERVERT! " One second he was standing, facing forward, the next second his face was was thrown a full 180 degrees the opposite direction. It takes a whole moment for his body to follow suit but before his brain could register what was happening, a foot planted on his posterior sends him flying halfway across the room.

May finds shelter diving behind a nearby nightstand, ducking, as foreign objects begin sailing overhead: toaster, microwave, knife, plate, can, knife; telephone book, lamp, chair, another knife. May couldn't begin to describe were she managed to find a typewriter, yet alone the strength of a behemoth to toss an entire mattress at him. May gulps, feeling his stomach turn, this couldn't possibly end well for him. Rita pounces after May beating him senseless with a pillow

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 **The adventure continues. . . Finally I'm finished with this chapter plus there's more in store, three times the amount, I'm delving deep into my thought vault and I won't halt. I intend to give my wealth in words and spend every sentence I own, donating the details I describe. My next update shall be unbelievable and will leave you breathless. Until next time.**


	14. Yes, you may

**Before I begin, I'd like shine light on my previous update, so allow me a moment to revisit the topic. I need help; will you help me, please? I consider my audience to be the story, my job as an author to introduce adversity. However, this pales in comparison to the task of each individual reader: providing reviews and, constructive, criticism. It's no secret. I'm the sentimental type and my writing thrives when I'm quote-unquote "emotional", but with no communication nor interaction to stir the, proverbial, pot: I can't possibly hope to improve. Therfore, I humbly beseech each one of you, take your opportunity to become more than just another reader.**

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Rita enjoys an ice cream sandwich while sitting on a park bench. Meanwhile, May holds a popsicle to his eye the consequence of an afternoon farce, a mauling he won't soon forget, "Quit acting like a crybaby." Rita nudges May playfully with an elbow, "It's not that noticeable." The moment after she tells him this; no sooner than the second, after, May removes the popsicle from his face: a ball rolls coming to a stop at his feet. Shortly after a little girl comes to retrieve her round red ball.

"What happened to your eye, mister, are you a pirate?" The girl asks curiously.

"Claudine-chan, what've I told you about running off like that, how many times do I have to repeat myself? And what did I say about talking to strangers?" Susie hurries after the tiny girl trying to get ahold of her hand.

"But look, Susie, she has red hair!" The tiny girl, Claudine, says her voice refracting with glee, "It's the same color as my ball." The girl points at Rita while holding her ball up.

"It's not polite to point, Claudine-chan" Suddenly, Susie recognizes them, "Well if it isn't the young couple, from last night." She can't contain her smile looking at them, "First date and already your first lovers quarrel. A word of advice: don't have children. I'm her mother and she listens to not a, single, word I say." Susie picks the tiny girl up ensuring she won't run off again. With a quick farewell Susie continues along her way, answering questions about this and that as Claudine rehearses the five "W's".

"Not noticeable, huh?" May says looking at Rita with his good eye, she was responsible for his left-eye being swollen shut.

Rita can't help but chuckle, "I said, not that noticeable," she takes another bite of her ice-cream sandwich, "Besides, don't act like you didn't deserve it. What were you thinking, pointing that thing at me?" May opens his mouth but he was lost for a response, instead he returns the popsicle to his eye. A dog catches a frisbee out the air and runs it back to his human companion, hungry to continue playing. While A father and son practice in the square, and a family enjoys an outing absorbing the wonderful weather at winters end.

Rita takes a long deep inhale before letting it out all at once, when suddenly two youths approach, "Wow-ouch, buddy, what happened?" One of the youths say, talking to May, "I don't remember you having that, this morning."

The other youth leans over his friend's shoulder to get a view of May's shiner, "Yeah, you're wicked quick, bro." The youth attempts to imitate a foot-shuffle, stops, holds his palms wide, and wiggles his torso whooping one time, "If you're up for it, drop by the square tonight. That's when all the big-shots show." The youth depart, hopeful, after delivering an informal invitation.

Rita turns her head toward May, "Mind explaining what that was about?" She asks perplexed by the random encounter. May simply shrugs his shoulders with a sweet smile, a smile saying: I have a secret. Rita gives him an examining eye, "Come on tell me; you know I hate being surprised." However, May just continues grinning.

Already accustomed to this type of behavior she changes the subject, "So, May, how long do we intend on staying here, on this island? Do we even have a destination?" Rita stands up stretching, and exhales heavily, "It's not like I'm not enjoying myself, with you, I just feel like we're lacking that sense of excitement. I want to do something exhilarating." Rita looks up at the sky, clouds of every variation taking shapes of all varieties, she begins wondering about all the wonderful possibilities.

May stands as well, yawning, "Excellent. I was just considering our next course. Right now we're here; in Omlet town." May pulls out a map of the island, pointing to their location, "Obviously, we can't go back the way we came; so we'll have to continue in the opposite direction: forward. And that got me to thinking."

Rita folds her arms across her chest, all too familiar with May and his "bright-ideas", "Oh, lord what misguided intentions have you filled May's, empty, skull with." She sighs exasperated.

"If you'd let me finish with what I was saying: what's in front of us?" May presents the question before he continues, "That's the biggest disadvantage of our paddle-boat; that being we're always looking behind us and never in front. Not focused a predetermined destination. Always a spare thought for everyone and everything in the rear."

Rita unfolds her arms, placing them on her hips, "I still don't see what you're getting at." Although, she wouldn't openly admit it Rita was equally impressed as she was shocked, at how much thought and consideration May actually put into this. Instead, she gives him a scornful look as if daring him to continue.

May's pride shrivels, slightly, swallowing hard he carefully selects his words: this next sentence had to seal the deal, or he'd feel the repercussions (he was already 0-1 when it came to "bright-ideas"), "From this comes our greatest advantage: we're constantly reminded why we must proceed, and persist forward. With you by my side I will persevere!" May shouts the last, a little too loudly, and as a result a group of girls giggle.

"A bold declaration of love!" One of the girls jest.

"I thought it was rather romantic." Another says, grinning.

Rita could feel her cheeks getting warm, and just looking at May made her entire body tingly, "Humph, some girls just have it lucky when it comes to men. They don't even have to try and look appealing; this just goes to show you: even if you look like trash someone will dig you out of the dumpster, eventually." The girl rudely walks between Rita and May, looping her arm with May's linking them together. She eyes Rita up and down, unimpressed, "I don't know what you see in this, girl-boy wannabe," She rolls her eyes and smacks her lips disrespectfully, "But once you find out what's really in between its legs: won't you whisper those big words in my ear, daddy?"

Having heard enough, Rita open palm, horse-whip, slaps the taste out of home-girls mouth (and probably a tooth). The sheer pressure of the slap makes his ears pop. So close to him, May could feel the wind generated by her hand, it was like a jet talking flight. Rita slowly cocks her neck toward the other girls casting a, devilish, glare that would frighten even a mother grizzly bear. No words needing be uttered the girls make for the hills, scattering, like terrified birds.

Rather than provoke an already irritated Rita and risk making her angry, May insist they finish their discussion elsewhere, using the opportunity to take in some sights. Once the moment felt ripe May stop in front of a bronze statue, "You still haven't heard my brilliant idea." May revisits the topic once Rita had time to temper down, "If we continue coasting in the direction we're heading, we'll arrive here!" May hands Rita his torn map, the very same one his grandfather found on Coconut Island; the exact map May inherited in Cacoon City: now whole again. In part thanks to Koin.

At first Rita analyzes both maps seperatly, then together; side by side, tilting her head all the while. After taking a long look at the angles and trying to accurately approximate the best route. She sits momentarily with a fixed frown on her face, "No matter how I look at it, I don't see us being able to make that trip, May, I'm sorry. It's impossible, that's almost a month's journey. We'd starve first, or die from dehydration, or worse." She hands the maps back to May, resigned to chalk this up as another bad idea.

"That's exactly what the guy at the map shop said." May says as he rolls both maps away and tucks them inside a pocket, "Although, both him and the guy from the dock agreed: If we remodel our paddle-boat with a mast and equip it with some sails, we could slash the time in half." May allows her a moment to ponder over that tiny tidbit of information.

"Still. Two weeks aboard that, wricked, wreck; carrying supplies. It's going to be cramped." Rita considers it several times before finally agreeing, undeniably, it was a "bright-idea". Still not satisfied, however, she only sees the potential, "That only leaves us two problems, both equally as problematic. We don't have a spare mast with sails lying around at the moment; nor do we have the required amount to pay for one. Yet alone cover the cost of re-equipping the boat. Before I left home I took all the money I saved: 525,000 berri."

"Which brings me to my last point, and actually it's more like 150,000 berri. I had to use some for the down payment, they required a minimum of 25% to begin refitting." Rita looks at May in disbelief at what she was hearing, "Now, now, before you say anything. I'm well aware that the down payment is only going to cover the cost for them to begin working. However, I've already thought of a way to pay for both: the price of the mast and cost of labor. Leave the rest to me, I'll take care of all the planning." Rita can only instill her faith in May, at this moment, refraining from voicing her concerns.

"You'd better," Rita nudges his shoulder, softly, "I'm going to stock up on provisions, with the little money we have left. When do we set sail?"

May scratches his chin with his eyes closed before responding, "The boat'll be done within the next 48 hours, so anytime after that." May still hadn't gathered up the courage to tell her, he had no clue how he was going to obtain the funds necessary, despite this May was more motivated than ever to see things through. With a set course May and Rita separate to prepare for their journey.

"Alright, the old guy said I'd need at least 2-million-berri to have the work completed." May holds up two fingers, "I'll also need three-million berri to purchase the mast." Looking at his hand, curling his fingers, May holds up a, trembling, fist determined to do whatever was necessary to accomplish his goal. When suddenly his stomach growls at him, grinding his schemes to a halt; motion would have to wait. Fatigued, May makes his way to a cheap food vendor stationed on a street corner. Rubbing his hands together May begins devising a method for a meal, _'Time to see if you still got it, old chap'_ he thinks to himself.

"Oye, what ya servin' pops? " May shouts wearing a cheesy smile as he walks across the street.

"Depends on what you've got an appetite for, son." The vendor pulls out a laminated menu showing off several of his signiture specialties. He allows May a quick moment to mull over the selection before offering his suggestion, "My bacon, ham, and grilled cheese is murderous. And no one can match my nuclear, nachos." He says brimming with confidence, "But nothing beats my, marvelous, mozzarella pizza puffs." The vendor points to the insignia on his shirt: Puffy Pizza, Pop's.

May examines the menu thoroughly before deciding, "Ma-an, everything looks soo delicious. What can you tell me about your bottled water?" May asks an honest question.

The vendor can't help, chucking finding amusement in the question, "Oh, you were serious. Well, hmmm, let me see. I carry the finest liquid, bottled by the most beautiful-est mermaids a man could ever lay his eyes on." The vendor places one bottle of water atop his portable stove, "Is that all you want?" He asks watching May carefully.

"Mmmhm, yup. It sounds like that'll, certainly, quench my thirst." May swallows hard, trying to contain his hunger.

"Alright, but are you sure? I mean just take a look at how the cheese is melted on top of these chips." Resorting to underhanded tactics the vendor pulls a bowl out the oven, tempting May.

"I'm p-positive." May says without ever taking his eyes off the nachos.

"And watch how gooey my grilled cheese is when you tear it apart," May stares in delight at the sight, with a tear in his eye. Then, the vendor introduces a whole other level, "Are you absolutely, positively, certain; you're sure you don't want any of this?" If May was a king, he certainly lost to this ace. The vendor pull out from the oven, one of the largest pizza puffs May had witnessed. Stuffed unti it was on the verge of bursting open, May could almost imagine the mozzarella and the meat, and whatever else made it so large.

Although May's watering mouth declines his stomach doesn't, roaring loudly in anticipation, everything appeared very appetizing. Much to May's dissatisfaction the vendor, abruptly, interrupts May's food fantasies, shoving everything back inside his stove. The vendor watches May with a disapproving look written across his face, "Let me learn you this, son, a closed mouth won't get fed." He looks at May with disappointment, "While it is admirable not wanting to ask others for help; admitting you're in need is extremely difficult. However, refusing aid and not accepting your own shortcomings is ignorant. You seem more intelligent than that."

May holds his head down ashamed, "May I please have a meal.?"

"What'd cha say, son, I couldnt hear you, mumbling like that."

May lifts his head practically shouting aloud, "May I please have a meal, Pop's!?"

"Now that's more like it. Yes you may." Happily, the vendor reaches into his stove and pulls out a tray, with one meal on it and hands it to May.

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 **The adventure continues. . . Each title hints the significance of each chapter, and reflects what the moral is. Ultimately, after reading a chapter from the wonderful weaver of mayhem; the spectacular stitcher of destruction; the illustrator of illusions: Legacy. I want you to be able to take something from Mr. One word: amazing, and utilize it in your everyday. There are no guaranteed victories in life, only those who guarantee victory.**


	15. I May Not Be Fit but I'll Survive

**Welcome back to another exciting addition of the adventure. Allow me an additional moment to express myself, before we begin. I'm going through a tizzy of emotion right now, as I've lost my job. I'm jobless. The hardest part to swallow is letting my mother know. My eyes welt when I imagine her disappointment and I weep knowing she's the one who'll despair over my loss. Which is real funny because I'm depressing over the fact that someone else is taking on my pain; if you could see the look on my face now: pathetic.**

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Sitting on the curb, May burps after finishing a good meal and normally he'd keep his personal problems just that; personal. However, May senses the man's actual compassion for other and his concern to be genuine. So when the man asks, "What's bothering you son? You look like you've got a lot on your mind." May doesn't hesitate to reply.

"Right now, my mind is more full than my belly."

The vendor can't help but laugh at May's response, "That's an awful lot, for someone skinny as you. It must be a, terrible, burden."

"It's the burden I've been carrying since I've left home."

The vendor lifts his brow, intrigued, "And what might that be?"

"You see, that's the crazy part. In the past I thought I had it all figured out, I was there; and now" May hesitates, looking into the distance. "And now I feel like I'm more distant than I've ever been; after coming so far." May releases a heavy sigh.

"I see. That does sound like a heavy weight, but where's home for you?"

"Coconut Island, Cacoon City." May says beaming with a sense of pride.

Surprised the vendor comes closer to May, sitting beside him on the curb, "No lie. It's reassuring meeting someone like you, from the inner city. I'm from Coconut island too, I'm from Caterpillar city myself, I've been to Cacoon on several occasions. Tough place live, yet alone grow up."

"Together we all managed, somehow."

"Mind if I ask whom it is you're referring to? "

A sullen look suddenly appears on May's face, "Their unimportant, the only thing that matters now is moving forward." May places his hands on his knees shivering and closes his eyes, gathering himself, "I can't have my sight set on the past, not when the future is staring me in the eyes." He opens his eyes, feeling a surge of emotions rush throughout his entire body as he exhales.

"Sounds to me like you've got quite the dilemma on your hands." The vendor turns toward May, giving him a look he wasn't accustomed to receiving, "If there's anything I can do to help, son, let me know."

May scoffs, "Unless you know a way I can get my hands on 5 million berri, quick. I'm not sure you can."

"In fact I just might happen to know a way. You're an outsider so you wouldn't know about it, but at night, in the park, the top fighters come to the square and fight in what we like to call the tournament of ten. Looking at that polished eye of yours, I'd say you won't shy away from a punch. It cost 1 million berri for each competitor."

"That's wonderful but it's not like I left my wallet at home by mistake" May stands turning his pockets inside out, "I'm broke."

The vendor stands up as well, "Nonsense. I'll be your sponsor, so happens I have a million berri saved up."

May looks at the vendor with apprehension, "Why, why do all this for a stranger? You don't even know my name."

"Hhahaha, that's a good point, sonny, hahaha. Name's Antony Harper, Ant for short, pleasure to meet ya and happy to lend'a hand." Antony extends his own hand, smiling, holding true to his word.

May smirks extending a hand of his own, "May D. Lotus. Don't you dare forget it." The two clasp hands, squeezing equally as tight forming a friendship and creating a bond. Reassured with a renewed sense of hope May begins preparing himself mentally, locking himself into a set mentality. Nothing would prevent him from progressing with his ambition, nothing, except maybe a growling stomach, "Pop's, may I have another meal; please?"

Antony laughs cheerfully reaching into his portable stove, "Absolutely, son, that's quite the appetite you've got."

"I have a rapid metabolism so I have to eat constantly, otherwise I'll die." May jokes, gratefully accepting the meal and thanking Antony, "Shoot! I almost forgot. There's something important I have to take care of, before it's too late. I'll meet you at the square." May shouts, rushing to retrieve his most prized possession: a cloth, black, scarf.

"Meet ya there, son! Don't forget, registration closes quarter to midnight!" Antony yells wearing a broad grin on his face, "Kids these days." He mutters, shaking his head happily in nostalgia. Meanwhile, not long after May had left, Rita approaches the vendor carrying several bags full of supplies for their journey. Antony greets the potential customer, "What's a beautiful, young, lady such as yourself doing walking the streets, alone, at this hour?"

Rita frowns at the thought of May, "Because the fool I came to this island with doesn't know how to, properly, treat a lady. Besides, I can take care of myself. It may not look like it but I can handle my own."

"I wouldn't pick a fight with ya, for my own sake, so what'll it be for you tonight?"

Rita skims through the menu, "I have a taste for pasta with meatballs, broccoli, and croissants."

"Coming right up; would you like some complimentary nachos while you wait?"

"Thank you, I could use a small snack." Rita sets her bags on the sidewalk and sits on the curb, in a manner that looks reminiscent to May making the vendor chuckle, "Something amusing, Pop's?" Rita asks non-comically.

"Not too many gals like you on the island; in fact there are none. For a moment there, you reminded me of a friend of mine." Antony continues seasoning and preparing the meal, "Could be I'm imagining things, but it doesn't seem like you're from around here. Mind if I ask where you're from?" Antony places the meat in a skillet and drops some hard noodles in boiling water.

"I'm from Coconut Island, Butterfly Village. My father owns a lumber-yard there, he used to be a lumberjack before he met my mother. My father also used to be a good hunter, he taught me how to hold a gun and shoot properly. He even taught me how to brawl like a boy."

Antony heats the sauce while straining the meat and noodles, "Can't help but notice you didn't mention much about your mother." In another boiling pot the broccoli simmers while he rolls dough, placing several croissants inside the oven.

"She isn't my favorite subject to talk about. But if it weren't for her I don't think I'd be here now."

"Funny thing's about mothers, always an object of compassion and contempt." A timer goes off after several seconds and Antony finishes cooking her meal placing it inside a container, "Here you are, young lady, now please hurry home the streets cIan be a bit unfriendly, especially, around this time." He warns her concerned for her safety.

Rita smiles to reassure the vendor, "Home does sound nice. It'll be relaxing to enjoy a hot bath, and read before bedtime." She pays for her meal and heads back to the inn, carrying a bunch of bags in both hands. While walking Rita notices multiple houses on the block begin turning off all lamps and lights, locking their windows and doors, and setting security alarms. She picks up her pace starting to get a paranoid feeling like she's being followed. Her suspicions are confirmed when she hears footsteps clamoring close behind. Alerted of their presence; without turning around Rita instantly sprints between two buildings, disappearing from sight.

"After her! Don't let her get away." Someone shouts, giving chase.

Rather than continue running Rita turns and faces her would-be pursuers, "I'm warning you, don't think I'm helpless just because my hands are full." Rita notices three thugs stepping into the narrow space between the buildings, and recognizes the ringleader: Prejudice, "Where's Pitiful and Pathetic? And who are these two turds, are they your new friends: they look Dumb and Desperate."

"Shut up! I bet you're not so tough, Lil Red, not without your bodyguard around." The ringleader motions one of his lackeys to do his bidding, charging recklessly at the red-haired girl. One of the thugs charges Rita at the behest of their ringleader and tries to grab ahold of her. Swift as a swan, sidestepping, sweeping his shins, Rita allows his momentum to propel him into two other thugs attempting to sneak up from behind.

Agitated, the ringleader sends another thug rushing toward her. This time she spins, floating on her feet like a falcon, maneuvering into position to land a precision heel strike to the back of the knee, bringing him kneeling to his knees. Remorseless, Rita steps on the back of his head slamming his forehead to the ground.

Scrambling toward her another thug, clumsily, reaches out for her grabbing at nothing. In one fluid motion she glides through his grasp, stomping on his toes in the process. The thug hobbles on one foot swearing aloud, taking a wild swing at Rita and missing. Grateful as a crane Rita delivers a debilitating kick, striking directly at his ankle, taking him completely off his feet and lying him flat on his back. Rita turns toward the ringleader staring him down.

Not one to be intimidated by a woman with, ridiculous, red hair they engage in a stare-down. One watching; the other waiting; both looking for the slightest hint of hesitation. The opening of an opportunity. Suddenly the ringleader sprigs forward gambling everything for the chance to strike first.

Ruthless, Rita kicks him square in the genitals. The thug ringleader reels over groaning from his gut, feeling his manhood being squished like two cherries: crushed like a walnut underneath a hammer, "I don't need anyone to protect me." Rita declares, immediately finishing him with a headbutt to the bridge of his nose, making him see stars and rubber ducks.

Rita smirks admiring her handy work, ironically, watching as the tough thug lies on the floor clutching his bruised ego, "I don't need anyone to protect me." She admits to herself again, it had a certain ring that appealed to her ear. Rita emerges from between the buildings, unscathed, smiling triumphantly and as if nothing happened. She throws her neck to the side, tossing the loose strands of hair out her face and continues her walk back to the inn, carrying bags in both hands.

May reaches the park a quarter after midnight to meet Antony, "Yo! May. Over here." Antony appears from amongst the crowd, "Never mind what happened. I knew you'd come so I already took the liberty of checking you in. Did you take care of whatever it was you needed to?" He looks at May uncertain.

"Yep, all taken care of, Ant, so don't worry. I also got my good luck charm." May places his hand on his chest, "Although, I have been told my personality is rather charming, wouldn't you agree?" May gives Antony a wink before going to join the other competitors in the square. If he hadn't known any better he'd have probably underestimated the competition, none of the fighters currently in the square looked like they possessed any real combat skill.

However, May reminds himself that in a tournament where the top ten come to solidify their own strength and prove their worth: everyone's bound to have a few tricks. This was more that just an ordinary gathering to view a fight the results of tonight would, undoubtedly, effect the entire town.

As the officiator goes over the rules of the tournament May can't help but notice two things. First, including himself only seven of the ten competitors had arrived. Second, pirates from the local water were present among the spectators, "That concludes our explanation of the rules." The referee blows his whistle, "If there are no further questions we'll proceed with the first scheduled match. All other participants are asked, please vacate the square until their respective matches." May hears murmur from the crowd but doesn't understand why.

May eavesdrops on the conversation trying to figure out what all the fuss was about, "Do you think he'll show up, again?" He hears someone say.

"Tiger-Shark-sama. He always wins so what's the point of showin up." Another person replies.

"I heard he was away from the island. Do you think the rumors are true?" May overhears another conversation going on.

"Tiger-Shark-sama a pirate, pssh, don't be preposterous. He's always helping people don't believe everything you hear; they're called rumors for a reason." May discovers listening to the spectators, the first fight would be the champion against none other than: dolphin-boy. Number one candidate for most disliked person on the whole island. A woman shrieks, clutching her skirt terrified, as a chunk of the bleachers next to her disappears. The murmur comes to an abrupt stop and everyone goes mute, altogether.

"Bwa-hahaha." A Fishman laughs while still chewing the bleachers, "Bwa-hahaha-ha, did that startle you. I'm sorry. I just swam here...now I'm hungry for action!" The spectators cheer for the champion's grand entrance, and ready to begin tonight's fights. The orange shark looks at his opponent disappointed, making his way to the square, "You again. You're my victim. Don't you ever learn your less-?"

A few spectators begin to voice their displeasure, yelling insults, shouting derogatory remarks, and throwing trash at the Fishmen in the square. Someone tosses a soda can, accidentally, hitting the orange shark aside the head. A sudden hush envelops the spectators and everyone holds their breath, nobody daring to gasp for air. Tiger-Shark cast a perfect grin, if such a thing as perfect exist. He begins laughing, deceiving the spectators. However, nothing could conceal the deadly look in his eyes.

"I the great Tiger; Shark-sama have been nothing but generous and gracious to your species. Attempting to foster better relationships between our people. Is this how you treat the Fishman representative, have you no respect for me?" He sweeps his eyes across the audience looking for his suspect. When an adolescent youth stands in the spectator seats apologizing for his disrespect.

"I'm sorry Shark-sama, my aim was a little bit off. I meant to whack that deplorable dolphin-" The youth slumps back down in his seat, silent. Only May bares witness to the last twinkle of life escape the boy's body observing as the light slowly leaves his eyes: suffering from an accurate, precise, and fatal shot that no one seen or heard.

Tiger-Shark utters underneath his breath, "Todo está perdonado, en la muerte." Without a shred of remorse, Tiger-Shark looks at the spectators through calm eyes regardless of the murderous thoughts seeping through his eyelids.

"Bwa-hahaha hahaha. Your species never ceases to amuse me." Without ever letting the official start the match Tiger-Shark immediately sets upon the dolphin-boy, treating him like a rag doll. Brutally, mercilessly, viciously. Tiger-Shark assaults the young dolphin intent on making a statement: anyone who opposes me and my authority shall suffer. Especially a fellow Fishman. Without a single regard to the regulations and rules of the tournament Tiger-Shark continues to savagely victimize the dolphin-boy.

Appalled by the sudden and drastic change in the shark's temperament the official panics, becoming too afraid to stop the match and allows the onslaught to continue. The dolphin-boy attempts to surrender but before he can make the gesture, fueled by frenzy, Tiger-Shark crushes his opponent with a full power **Shark Attack! !** ; delivered at eye blinding speed. Content not being satisfied, Tiger-Shark continues to fling the boy's limp body across the square.

Not enough strength to struggle, not enough energy to defend, it was obvious the dolphin-boy could no longer protect himself. Witnessing enough senseless violence May intervenes stepping into the square, interfering, on behalf of the dolphin-boy. May impedes Tiger-Shark's path standing between him and the boy. Neither say a single word, but their stare-off sends sparks flying everywhere. Where their eyes meet, tension flares, screaming murder is met by shouting madness: gazes locked in a motionless moment.

On the verge of becoming a physical altercation, rather than a dispute in a deadlock the referee has no choice but blow the whistle, "Disqualified!" He shouts, regaining his wits. The official finally ends the match giving Tiger-Shark the first round victory.

Wearing a smug expression Tiger-Shark tells May, "You're shark bait, now." The orange shark gets in May's face, "All you humans are weak and fragile, an inferior species like you deserve death. Even that fishboy understands this. It's survival of the fittest."

"At the bottom it may be fish-eat-fish, but topside we call that cannibalism." May smirks wiping the grin off Tiger-Shark's, sharp, angular face. Having the last laugh, May strides confidently back to rejoin the other competitors.

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 **The adventure continues. . . I've finally finalized this chapter, I'm so excited! To all of you guys I apologize for the delay, but there were some personal things that I had to shift through. Also, Halloween was a terrible, miserable, awful, day for me. Silver lining: I found extra inspiration to extract for the story, particularly, pertaining to the major villain. Lastly, I'll be including extra content inside every chapter for the month of November, in addition to an extra holiday theme chapter. Until next time.**


	16. No Rest for the Weary: Home-Run, Lotus!

**When I first started writing this story I never, once, imagined that I would become this invested into it. Initially I started this to get extra practice, experimenting with various writing styles and ultimately discover and define my style of writing. Amateur artwork. Expert craftsman. Fantastic penmanship. Let's begin the trip.**

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"The next match will be Matthew, from the Karate Academy," A man steps into the square once the officiator calls his name. He showboats around strutting as if the square belonged to him, "His opponent: the outstanding outsider." May looks around and spots Antony smirking in the bleachers, they both give each other a confirming nod, simultaneously. At last it was his turn to showcase his talent.

May straps his scarf around his waist, and exhales mentally composing himself first. Second, May loosens his body preparing to engage in an encounter with the man before him: May bows showing a sign of respect, a gesture that isn't returned. The caucasian man becomes impatient, "Come on, grampa, anytime now." He charges May prematurely, but May reads the man's every move avoiding each strike casually, "Are you ready to fight, or are run around all day?!" The man asks irritated, frustrated with his inability to land a hit.

May puts a little distance between them, "You may know K.F. but I know K.F.A. And your technique is sloppy. Pay close attention and you may learn something, young man." May mocks his older opponent, making his own voice sound like an elderly man, "I call this one, old man sitting in a chair." May assumes a posture that resembles someone sitting, "And I call this one: old man sitting in a chair; with a foot on his lap." Likewise, May freezes standing motionless as the crowd reacts positively, thirsting for more. Angrily the caucasian man runs straight toward May.

"Honestly, why do I even try?" May sighs, shrugging his shoulders. Hoping off his foot May springs into the air, spinning around: **Home-Run, Lotus!** May's shin slams into the side of the man's head, snot and spit fly from his face, swinging his entire neck the wrong direction with devastating and resounding impact. The match is decisive, to say the least, occurring in under thirty-seconds. All the spectators were stunned, speechless, surprised the match just started: half-minute later. With one hit the fight had been resolved.

With the conclusion of all preliminary matches, May stands amongst the first round victors, the winners proceeding to the quarter finals. As the rules stated, which May completely disregarded, each round would be continuous with the advancing fighter progressing non-stop to the finals: _'no rest for the weary.'_ the saying crosses his mind. The referee blows the whistle returning him from his thoughts.

"We will now begin the quarter-finals, competitors forward."

Rather than watch the match lacking interest in the results, he'd fight whoever won, May finds Antony in the bleachers, "Well, what did you think, how was I?" Lavishly, May bows.

"Mmm...That was rather impressive; you were outstanding."

May lifts his eyebrow, pretending not to be pleased, "Is that all I'm worth, where's my praise? The magnificent, marvelous, May!" He flings his arms wide, imagining glory within the length of his wingspan.

"Alright, outsider, try not to get carried away. There's plenty matches left to earn praise."

"I'm going to send that shark to an early grave." May mumbles underneath his breath.

"Sorry, son , you say something?"

May looks toward Antony, "Muttering some motivation." Looking at the progression of the match, May watches the turning point in the fight between the two competitors, competing, "Looks like a decisive moments approaching." May comments shifting his attention to the square. A fair skinned man wearing glasses, deflects a few attacks in a display of delicate but calculated maneuvers. Using sheer defense the man creates himself an opening and delivers a series of punches down the center of his opponent starting from his forehead, and ending at his abdomen.

His opponent staggers backwards, taking several steps before dropping to a knee. The man with glasses, patiently, waits for his opponent to stand back up on his feet. Aware, already, of what was not yet obvious to his opponent, "You fought admirably." The man readjust his glasses and turns his back, walking off. In a last valiant effort the other competitor stands to his feet, only to collapse two seconds thereafter.

"Well, guess, that's my cue." May stands and for a brief moment makes eye contact with the man wearing glasses. The glancing glare May receives as revitalization, absorbing the animosity directed toward him, May marches all the way to the square to start his match. The man looked like he came directly from a construction job, and just got done painting; then working out at the gym before coming to compete.

The man had a burning soul and a bright fire in his eyes, "Whoa! Wow! Ow! I'm ready to get rowdy, amigo, are you ready to tango because I came to dance." He starts moving his feet and throwing a few quick jabs.

May can't restrain his smirk, nor resist grinning, "Humph, when I hear music: my rhythm is mayhem." May returns a series of hooks, swinging for the air, bobbing and weaving.

"Brown-pride amigo." He says slamming his big brown boots on the platform.

"Black-power my friend." May says exhaling, shifting his scarf around his waist.

His opponent is another version of himself, in regards to their fighting styles. However, that is where their similarities ended. Their techniques couldn't be more like night and day: opposing one another constantly in an endless cycle of balance. The match goes back and forth, attacking, defending, offense, and counters. The spectators make their own comparisons, contrasting the way each competitor executed their moves: the timing; the precision.

Five minutes into the fight and neither May nor his opponent could connect a punch or land a kick on the other, a true testament of the skills possessed by both combatants. Equally matched but not equally exhausted, May notices signs of fatigue begin to creep into his opponent. Pressuring the offense of his opponent, May devises a strategy to turn the fight into a war of attrition.

Attacking with automatic accuracy they trade punch for punch, and kick for kick: fist collides against fist, and shin crashes against shin. Until May miscalculates his timing, overextending his arm. Unforgivable, his opponent makes him pay rushing in delivering two quick jabs to his abdominal region; following with a swift hook to the gut.

May feels the breath being crunched out of his lungs, however, realizing now was not the time to falter he recovers. Without staggering May counters by delivering a well aimed roundhouse-kick, slamming his opponent in the ribs. Brown-boots drops down to a knee clutching his side. Meanwhile, May stumbles backwards several steps before falling to his knees holding his stomach. Both competitors gasp heavily trying to recover lost air.

"Pant...pant..You've really earned my respect, brother." May inhales taking in a big breath, a tingling sensation surges throughout his body, "May D. Lotus, real life buccaneer." May stands, shivering. His spirit was frozen in the moment, the stare in his eyes cold as ice. The blood in his veins turned to snow.

"Romeo Roberto, role model for the next generation." Romeo releases a large exhale, shuddering, flames of his soul flaring up, "Tù también tienes mi respeto, hermano." Romeo stands, fist clenched, infused with renewed energy."

With both competitors returned to their feet, respectively experiencing their second wind the fight continues into the next phase: both competitors expending every ounce of energy in one final burst for victory. Where there can only be one, who will it be? Piling individual dreams. Channeling an ultra devastating attack May and Romeo charge for one another, sharing the same mentality.

"I aim for victory!" Both May and Romeo shout, together in unison.

Romeo draws his fist back, covering it in the palm of his other hand, **"** **El** **mano, ponche de sol."** Romeo runs into May and punches him directly in the center of his chest, driving all his might behind his arm and throwing all his strength into this one punch. Romeo delivers the final blow of the, honorable, confrontation. Or so he thought.

May smirks, seeing the look of surprise slap his opponent across the face, virtually absorbing Romeo's best shot. At the moment of impact May slightly twist his torso reducing the overall damage he received. Completing the motion using the momentum generated by his opponent force, May turns his hips and delivers the last most lethal back-leg kick, **"Lunar Lotus: Eclipse! !"** May slams the ball of his foot, slicing straight through Romeo's midsection.

Romeo levitates out the square, gliding several meters and slams into the bleachers like a bowling ball, striking pins, spectators inadvertently become collateral damage. The crowd looks at the fallen opponent, unmoving: toward the standing victor. Although May, may have been victorious, victory had a price. A price that no matter the cost, May was willing to pay. Today he paid in full.

Completely spent, May collapses fully fatigued and falls flat on his back. The spectators roar, loudly, that one fight was the most thrilling and exciting of all the matches thus far; not to mention the longest. Without a doubt the most memorable too. It would be difficult to top that performance, yet alone match it. May receives a standing ovation from the spectators, rejuvenating him with a wave of electricity, "Charge...Me up!"

That one spark brought May's battery-power beyond maximum capacity. Then suddenly, the referee blows the whistle calling for the start of the semifinals, "Semifinalist, ready!" He yells holding his hand high. The man with glasses approaches May stopping two arms lengths away.

"I've honed my art hoping for the opportunity to test myself against someone of your caliber. Would you do me the honor?" The man with glasses watches May carefully, unsure how May would respond.

"I too seek to further enhance my skills, I accept your challenge, Sherlock." May nicknames the man holding his fist outstretched, a mutual sign of validation among warriors. Sherlock fist bumps May, touching knuckles, the referee blows the whistle again.

"Semifinalist, begin!"

Both fighters withdraw their respective fist and adopt a battle ready posture. Still feeling the effects of his previous match, May makes the first move, forcing his opponent to respond. Not the best choice, Sherlock, having fresh legs is easily able to avoid the quick assault. May tries another speed maneuver, letting off a rapid chain of punches. He misses a majority coming close on several occasions.

Again, Sherlock wards off May's attack, defending and returning a few strikes of his own. Eventually he turns the tables forcing May to defend. Once more, May is a step too slow getting hit hard in the jaw, sending his vision spinning. May locks onto Sherlock's arm wrapping him up, becoming tangled together.

May makes another mistake, with his free hand Sherlock is able to drill May hard in the ribs, guts, and kidneys multiple times: May is able to connect several well placed blows of his own, sustaining not much more damage than Sherlock received. Giving May no time for respite he pushes onward with his offense. Changing into a more aggressive attack.

No relief from the overwhelmingly accurate attacks of Sherlock, May abandons his attempts to defend himself entirely barely able to avoid the fist and feet aimed at him. In those few quick instances May develops into a better fighter, pushed forward toward transformation. And transform he does, letting the fight come to him May evades each strike better than the next one.

Eventually it becomes effortless and May is able to discern a pattern in the way Sherlock moved. May devises a scheme to set Sherlock up, luring him in only to deliver a swift foot to stop him dead in his tracks. Now it was May's turn to push the assault, Sherlock falls for the same maneuver several times being set up in various ways; coming to a screeching halt each time.

Not one to be made a fool of, one final time, Sherlock wraps himself close to May, "Stop mocking me!" Sherlock catches May unaware breaking through his defense, **"Wings of Woe!"**

 _'Damn, this doesn't look good, no time to react.'_ May gets hit with a barrage of fist, continuous punches starting from lower abdomen and ending right between his eyes. May momentarily blacks out, having a flashback, he sees the smiling face of his little sister, Amy. She looks up from her book smiling at him, brightening his spirit like only she could. Her expression suddenly changes when she notices the condition he's in.

"May? What's wrong, are you sleepy? If you're too tired you should just rest" She closes her book and rushes to give him a warm hug, filling him with warmth, "Stay here with me, forever. Please." She pleads with him, giving him a sweet stare of irresistible innocence. May embraces his little sister lifting her high into the air.

She giggles happily enjoying the quality time she has with her big brother, with a playful grin on her face, "Please forgive me, Amy, but I can't stay; not right now." It hurt him deeply to let her down, especially when all she ever wanted really was to spend time with him.

Amy frowns at May, "Why not?" She asks unhappy.

"Because." May sounds uncertain looking around the room, searching for an excuse.

"Because what?" Amy asks pouting.

May looks at Amy with tenderness and fondness, "Because there's no rest for the weary." He answers sighing heavily.

Unsatisfied, Amy throws a tantrum refusing to let him leave quietly. Screaming at the top of her lungs, tears begin streaming from her eyes. The sound of her high pitched screams makes his ears ring; May places his hand over her mouth trying to quiet her. Then May attempts to reason with her using logic and reason to no avail.

Preferring to be unreasonable and devious, seeking further attention from May, Amy bites his fingers and kicks him in the ankle. She stops crying long enough to laugh at May. However, May was mad, "Ouch! You little devil, what's so funny." Amy runs away from May forcing him to chase after her, "Don't think you can get away from me, little girl, when I get my hands on you." It doesn't take long for the cat to corner the mouse, but for more amusement the cat always let's the mouse escape: the mouse always out-maneuvers the cat.

May pins Amy to the floor tickling the giggling child, "I'm sorry. . . I'm sorry... I won't do it again." Amy laughs so hard it was hard to tell if she was actually crying anymore. Merciful, May rolls over lying on the floor next to his sister. She rest her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat was her favorite thing to do, "What are you doing, May?"

May looks at Amy confused, "What do you mean, what does it look like I'm doing? I'm relaxing."

"Remember what you said, can you go get me another book? I'm bored with all the old ones here; plus I already read them a hundred times." Amy asks directly in ear so he could hear. May shuts his eyes pretending to be asleep, "May, get up. I know you're not sleep; stop faking. May. . . Get up!" She shouts into his ear, bringing him back to consciousness.

Sherlock turns his back on their skirmish confidently preparing to walk away, believing that he won on a whim, "You fought magnificently. Unfortunately, that arrogant attitude of yours cost you." Sherlock begins walking off, having said his last words, truly convinced the brawl was over.

May opens his eyes blinking several times, he didn't know how he wound up on the floor or when he fell. All he knew was he was still in this fight, of that he was certain. The mind wills the body making it capable of accomplishing, extraordinary, superhuman, feats. May rises after being beaten down, delving into an unknown reservoir that not even he knew he had.

"Gasp...pant...pant...don't underestimate me." May stands on wobbly legs, struggling to find a vertical base, "I'm still, here, in this fight!" His tenacity echos like thunder, legs wiggling more violently than before: May takes a step forward disappearing like a flash bolt.

In that same moment Sherlock looks behind him, seeing only a silhouette visage of May approaching him. The very next instant the last and only sound he heard was May shouting, " **Thunder!"** May stops right on the button, coming within a hairs length from brushing the tip of his nose. The force behind May's fist creates a small wind current, blowing loose stands of hair out Sherlock's face. The pressure generated by May's punch pushes Sherlock's head backwards, and cracks the lenses of his glasses.

Immediately, instantaneously, May yells the final words of the magnificent melee, " **Lighting** **! Lotus!"** Launching his fist skyward, May's knuckles kiss the chin of Sherlock. The instant they make contact the impact of the collision causes a virtual lighting bolt to appear. Sherlock is lifted off his feet completing several backflips in the air, before smashing into the ground.

May collapses to his hands and knees, he couldn't breathe, his lungs were on fire; the air from each inhale combustible adding more fuel to the fire. He was radiating an atmosphere of sweltering heat. Noone could compete to defeat the technique he trained tirelessly to attain. Although, blurry his eyesight remained May saw clearly. Only one obstacle remained: Tiger-Shark.

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 **The Adventure Continues. . . Thank you once all, once more, to those** **gorgeous, wonderful, individuals who inspire me. Know that you have truly been an inspiration, the guiding light, that has constantly and consistently kept me on my path. Without you I don't know where I would be, and even though sometimes I may not: I always feel this way. Secretly. Bye. See you next time. You're beautiful.**


	17. Special: A Storm's Passing

**Here we are again. The start of yet another, adoring, chapter. There are plenty of other stories out there to read, but seeing as how you're here with me: I have a special treat to pique your mind, stimulate your thoughts, and awaken your eyes. So let me prepare something to whet your appetite. In light of the occasion this chapter's theme is a bit more family oriented.**

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Back in Cacoon City, unfortunately, everyone thinks May is dead. The few who mourn have sworn to abide by the attitude May kept, adopting new personalities, harboring individual dreams. The vast majority continue on with their lives, refusing to acknowledge change preferring things to remain the same; not different. However, the universal truth remained: everyone from the local island witnessed a storm's passing, the carnage left in its wake and the destruction wrought by the havoc it summoned. No one would ever forget the blizzard that froze the city.

Back then nobody could've know how the events following his untimely demise would transpire, least of all May. His actions deliberate or intentional, initiated a sequence of events. Shortly after May and Rita set sail from Coconut Island the Navy fully establishes its blockade around Cacoon City. Looking through the lense of a telescope a, young, fresh recruit notices a tiny boat in the distance. Against his better judgement he decides not to report, any activity, finding nothing suspicious about a small canoe. Assuming it's a fisherman trying to harvest one final catch: most prosperous directly after a storm's passing.

The new recruit relaxes, knowing full well, it was common knowledge among sailor's further that direction; too far was sea king territory. No one would be foolish enough to travel directly into their territory. Information privy only to the local Navy, lately, sea kings have been running rampart in the waters of West-Blue; the cause of their delay setting up their blockade in the first place. The fresh recruit reclines backwards, crossing his legs as he watches clouds.

Below deck, outside the captain's private chambers, another young boy with orange strands of hair beginning to speckle both sides of his face stands beside the door. His sole job was holding the captain's hat. An old worn and weathered thing from decades ago. From the other side of the door the captain can, vaguely, be overheard having a conversation; presumably with Navy Headquarters, finishing a report to the higher-ups and/or discussing the next course of action. Now that their position was secure and the blockade established the "real" work could commence.

Without forewarning the door to the captain's chamber bursts open and out steps a woman with auburn hair, slowly beginning to gray with the years. Without uttering a word she starts marching up the steps, above deck; forcing the orange haired lad to follow along. Once again the captain forgot her hat. Upon stepping above deck all hands salute the captain, and all soldiers stand ready for their next order. Despite being short in size she walked with purpose, quickly, moving from aft to fore of the ship in a few seconds, possessing the voice of a bullhorn. Already beginning to bark at her freshly recruited crew.

"Come on you lot, on your feet, we're already behind schedule. Move it! Order. Double time." The captain walks and shouts, pausing momentarily as if she were forgetting something, something, important, "I just got off the snail with headquarters and they want me to do the impossible; with a crew of fresh faced, battle dreaming, dry behind the ear-" The captain continues, and has to contain her disbelief before stepping onto the prow of the ship. At last she turns, finally, facing her crew, after all was said and done she was captain and this was her ship.

She takes a moment to absorb their expressions each and every one of them, different faces, all of them: together they looked like frightened children but even that was individual. One thing, and one thing alone was all they had in common: a uniform and a cap. An immediate reminder. Every captain wears a hat and right now she was a, damn, captain. She scans the faces of the fresh recruits, "Vega! Damn-it, where has that boy ran off to now. Vega!" How someone so short could overlook somebody so close to them; while standing overlooking everyone is a question with no answer.

"Vega!" She shouts again, this time garnering a response.

"I've been right here the whole time captain." Vega, the boy with orange hair yelps half-startling her.

"Court-Martial! Do I have to repeat myself every time." She snatches her horrible looking hat and places it upon her head, looking hilarious wearing it. Suddenly a seagull flies and lands atop the captain's hat which resembles an awkward nest, especially, with the bird perched comfortably above it. "I! Patty Neiman. Have sworn to rid this island's soil of its scourge and cure the land it of its pirate plague: I will cleanse the inhabitants of this poor island so they too may be pure. This island is sick, without a shred of doubt. No longer will Justice let it suffer silently; in agony of this illness." She encourages admiration from everyone sharing the uniform.

Brought to illumination like lights, wearing faces of unwavering and unfaltering determination, captain Patty Neiman motivates her youthful recruits, "You're no longer cadets, studying, from here on; in. Things aren't always going to be pretty. It will get ugly, that I can assure you. Today is the first day of many days, so tonight rest up and prepare yourselves for tomorrow: you lot get your ears wet." With those final words she dismisses her sailors for the evening stepping off from the prow beast, resembling a seagull.

Super inspired for tomorrow to come sailors toss their seagull caps high into the air, shouting in glee because they graduated. Startled by the sudden commotion both the seagull and lookout wake up. Peering over the side in time to watch the ceremony's end he observes as the eager recruits disembarking the ship, dismissed for the day. All except Vega, whom earlier received a Court-Martial. Along with his fellow shipmates, the lookout observes the captain's seagull fly off. A lone white bird takes flight blending into a sky filled with white clouds. Rather than disembark with a group of friends, with dreamy eyes the lookout yawns, relaxing, preparing to take nap. True to the name his parents gave him, Owl: his very first words.

Meanwhile, somewhere inside the city Brock and his fiancé, Tina, prepare for their big day. They'd be getting married soon. Accompanying the bride to be is Cassandra-Chelsey while Goar escorts the groom to be. In the short time Brock had known the Pineweed family they'd been nothing but benevolent and generous people to him, treating him with nothing but hospitality and kindness. Allowing the homeless couple to rent out their garage and convert the shed into a home. Goar even extended his offer to cover the expenses of the wedding himself. Altogether Brock felt guilty, the wedding was supposed to be a cover-up story explaining the sudden disappearance of Rita and May; without detail or description.

Belching from the bottom his belly, sounding like a boar, Goar's laughter and burp mesh multiplying the "disgusting effect" as he so proudly referred to it, "Why don't we leave you ladies to your shopping and us men go and find ourselves a tuxedo-tavern." Goar gives Brock a gigantic grin, glad to have a drinking companion who could drink just as much as he; sharing a thirst equally as large. Goar releases another resounding belch, louder than the last; if that were even possible.

"A tuxedo or a tavern?" Goar's youngest daughter, Cassandra-Chelsey, gives her father an affixed stare: a look showing something else attached. The big man looks at his daughter with the sentimental look only of a father, and gives a boisterous laugh.

"Should I start calling you Cassandra-Ashley now too, guess whose starting to sound like Ashley-Maria. Wait till Rita returns she won't, hardly, recognize you. Tsk, tsk." He teases talking like a titan, his gigantic giggles making her flustered. Cassandra grabs Tina by the hand, practically, dragging the bride to be away from the groom to be and her, annoying, father. Goar pats Brock on the shoulder taking a serious tone, "Now that the ladies are effectively distracted, us gentlemen can conduct our real business."

Brock smiles, uncertain, going along with the charade, "I sure could use a cold one to settle my nerves."

"The time for drinks will come, first, we have more important things to discuss." Goar firmly grips Brock by the shoulder pulling the respectively large man underneath his arm, "Take it from a man whose walked the aisle, aside from the ring that represents the constant reminder: location is the most important facet of a wedding." Goar sighs reminiscing a painful and joyful sight, "Where you hold your wedding will be the first best memory you create together. Make it significant."

Brock considers for a moment, mentally going over all the possible places, "Before now, I never really gave if much thought." He admits drawing blank after blank.

"Consider it carefully, now, this will be the cement upon which your entire weddings foundation will be built upon; the cornerstone every wedding."

"You almost sound like a wedding planner." Brock jokes punching Goar on the shoulder.

"Think you're funny, Brock, my man. Come here; you." Goar playfully places Brock in a headlock, giving him a classic nuggie, "Now spill it, what place you got in mind? Where do you want to get married?" In an impressive feat of strength, encouraging friendly competition, Brock breaks loose implementing a grapple of his own: inserting a wet finger to Goar's ear.

"I want to be married on the sand!" Brock makes a declarative statement surprising himself, "Looks like you rubbed some sense into my head, after all, I can only think about one place to hold such a memorable occasion." Releasing his grip on Goar, Brock stands bewildered at the thought; why he hadn't thought about it sooner.

"By that expression on your face, I can see that it's time for those drinks." Goar gives a gigantic giggle, his chuckles echoing deeply.

Elsewhere, the ladies look for whatever women search for before walking the aisle, "My father is such a blundering oaf. Honestly, I wish Rita would hurry up and return. I swear she's the only one I know who can tolerate his obnoxiousness." Cassandra-Chelsey apologizes, still fuming because of her father's careless stupidity.

"I understand, really, it's okay; you don't have to keep saying sorry. I never got the chance to meet my actual father. Sometimes I like to pretend what it's like to have one when I feel alone. I learned a long time ago, unfortunately, even though they like to call themselves men: boys will always be boys. So you can stop apologizing." Tina tries to muster a smile, not one to typically smile, smiling was of her weaker traits. However, she more than compensated with her thoughtfulness on any topic, "Besides, the relation a father shares with his daughter is a treasure, all its own."

Tina bows her head in dignity, "From the bottom of my heart, thank you, your family has filled me with so much happiness. I can't begin to express my gratitude for all you've done for me." Tina lifts her head, and despite the tears streaming from her eyes she had a smile on her face, "I don't have any sisters to experience this moment with me, or a mother to share in my excitement." Overtaken by emotion Tina begins sobbing uncontrollably.

For probably the first time in her young life, Cassandra-Chelsey considers someone other than herself. Wiping water from her own eyes, realizing she had begun crying herself; in that moment C.C. matures making a conscience decision: becoming a pillar of emotional support for the woman in front of her. C.C. embraces Tina in a comforting hug and offers her a shoulder to cry on.

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 **I hope everyone's had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend. Here's another one of those things that you enjoy. From me to you: Thank You! I only have two more things I'd like to say: firstly, the content of my chapters compel me to fully comprehend and submerge myself into the scene. Secondly, this chapter brought me backwards before progressing forward, teaching me sometimes it is essential to review previous chapters, in order to navigate, forward, through. Enjoy this treat, HAPPY-HOLIDAYS!**


	18. I May Have Created an Adversary

**Okay, so I'm an idiot (I'd like you to imagine). I had entirely forgotten, after competition of my latest chapter, to update and post this one. Thus continuing the process of the continuous chapter creation; which is a bit embarrassing. I'm the first to admit my mistake but in the future I'll remember: you guys rely on me in a way and a lot of you care for me just a little, small, tiny amount (stop me, anytime, if I'm being vain). Insult me not because of my lack of knowledge, but my unwillingness to educate myself.**

* * *

"Here, son, have a pretzel" Antony had rushed from the bleachers, checking up on May, "That last fight was absolutely breathtaking. You really upset a lot of people with that match, what a performance." Antony assists May in standing to his feet, realizing for the first time May had no shoes, and although naked they wore scars of their own. A symbolism, perhaps, personal socks, maybe; who knows for certain? However, the image of his feet cut deep reminding him of a saying his own grandmother often said: Beware! The exposed foot bares clues.

May scarfs down the pretzel engulfing the entire thing in one bite. Chew, chew, chewing. May has severe difficulty swallowing the extremely dry but equally delicious pretzel. May D. Lotus: Deceased; cause of death, baked delicacy. He shivers at the thought, but makes peace knowing there were worse ways to die. He closes his eyes, blinking, accepting his destiny. When suddenly fate intervenes; in the guise of an attractive mother.

The gorgeous mother hands May a bottle of water, which he quickly and graciously accepts. He swallows the cool liquid savoring the sensation of fluid returning to his body, "Slow down, now, no need to hurry, there's plenty more where that came from. One can get thirsty on this trail and if not properly hydrated, will tire fast." She smiles at May as if he were her own son. Apparently, she had a child of her own and, obviously, he didn't appreciate his mother showing any type of affection for a stranger.

"Alright mom. Can we go, now, you said you wanted to make sure he was okay; not give him a pep talk." The teenage boy trails closely behind his mother analyzing the awkward way they were eyeing each other. Her son speaks aloud making an indirect comment, "I swear, it's so embarrassing when you do too much." He stops talking and frowns disapprovingly at May.

"Okay, son, I promise: after this last, final, fight we can leave. I swear." Despite talking to her son the mother's gaze remains fixed on May, standing, chewing her lower lip.

"What's the hold-up, black scarf? I thought you wanted to settle things, either way: I'm going to feed you to the fishes!" Tiger-Shark paces back and forth, impatiently, eager to eliminate.

"Since you saved my life, I dedicate this fight to you gorgeous." May winks at the mother watching her, slowly, return to the bleachers and take her seat. Antony looks at May grinning ear to ear, "What?"

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what that was all about." Antony lifts an eyebrow, already, anticipating his answer, "Seems like you made yourself an admirer." Antony smiles finding enjoyment in May's display.

"Shut up, Ant." May laughs finding a certain amount of amusement in the situation himself, "Although, in the process, I may have created an adversary." May returns his attention to the Tiger-Shark, stepping into the square.

"Allow me a moment to gather myself, you pompous amphibian." The handful of spectators who remain instigate the confrontation with their comments and remarks, unnecessarily.

"Oh shit, son." Antony utters, aloud, unconsciously.

"Damn! What did he just say?!" The teenager echoes the surprise that everyone felt.

"I'll kick your ass!" Tiger-Shark explodes after May, ignited by the insult. May loses ground to Tiger-Shark, sustaining minor damage, standing on the receiving end of a vicious **Tiger Combo.** Tiger-Shark sends May reeling backwards, certainly feeling worse for wear. Not allowing any time for May to regain his bearings, Tiger-Shark crashes into May. The orange fishman uses his slightly longer frame to topple May dropping him to the floor.

Not one to be overran May mounts his counter offensive, " **Wildfire Lotus!"** May sweeps the floor with so much intensity, he creates friction, generating enormous heat and lands two precise hits to Tiger-Shark: flames schorch his shin taking his leg out from underneath him. The very next second fire follows and May delivers a burning hot hit to his opponent's chest, a torch transferring technique.

Incensed, with a look of frenzy in his eyes Tiger-Shark contains his fury and channels it into his next attack, "If you thought that pitiful hit hurt, you're sadly mistaken. Allow me to show you the disparity in our strength: die in despair! **Tiger Strike!** " Tiger-Shark runs at May swinging his leg like a sledgehammer attempting to kick May's head clear off his shoulders.

Crouching, May swiftly turns his head to the side, narrowly, avoiding having his face permanently rearranged. May spins, quickly, standing to his feet. May smirks knowing he dodged something disastrous, until he notices Tiger-Shark grinning menacingly. Unexpectedly, May stagers backwards reeling in pain from a blow unseen and nearly stumbles out of bounds. Before May knows it, once more Tiger-Shark aggressively pursues his victim.

" **Double-Tiger Strike!** " Tiger-Shark attacks with astounding speed, too swift for the naked eye to witness.

 **"Whirlwind Lotus!"** May wraps his arm around the back of his assailant's neck and hops off his feet, keeping a firm grip, locking his hand underneath the chin to secure his hold. May flails his legs around creating a column of wind, the momentum bends the body of Tiger-Shark allowing May to follow the motion through. A loud thud resonate throughout the atmosphere as Tiger-Shark is driven forehead first onto the most unforgivable square.

Much like the previous time, May reacts accordingly only to receive his agony afterwards. In an unknown form of punishment May feels as if an enormous anchor is placed upon his torso, absorbing the air from his lungs. Acknowledging the threat that the other possessed, both combatants separate themselves: each strategically thinking how to defeat the enemy at hand.

Suddenly Tiger-Shark begins laughing, "Bwa-hahaha, ha, ha, ha." He slowly claps his hands several times in amusement, "I applaud you black-scarf; you should consider yourself fortunate, most people would've stayed down after that last attack, but no, not you. For that I'm really going to enjoy tossing your corpse into the fish tank." He continues chuckling, delighted with himself.

"Yeah, yeah, ha-ha; real funny half-species. Why don't you save your applause, until after I kick your ass." May makes Tiger-Shark see red with his dagger words.

"I'm going to, fucking, cut your tongue off!" Tiger-Shark shouts, possessing the superior speed he shrinks the space between them furiously swinging. May dances around giving more ground than gaining, " **TRIPLE-TIGER STRIKE!"** Tiger-Shark sends May swirling of the square and spinning out of control.

One moment May was in the fight, and the next minute he was completly out of it, **"3!"** The officiator begins the elimination countdown. May slaps his fist on the floor, halting, avoiding being hurled further from square-side, " **2!"** May rolls over onto his hands and knees, met by massive pain, May reuses to quit; even if his body gave out, **"1!"** Possessing the drive to never give-up, May makes one final attempt, desperation sprint, barely beating the countdown.

Not too happy to see May back on his feet, so suddenly, Tiger-Shark prepares one of the most lethal moves in his arsenal, "You made a big mistake, you're gonna to regret." The look behind Tiger-Shark's eyes showed all intent and he refuses to take his eyes off May, waiting for the opportunity to kill.

"MAY! So this is where you've been, all along, I've been worried sick." The voice of Rita cuts sharp, undeniably, recognizable to his ear. May turns his head to the left seeing a red haired figure making its way through the crowd, "Don't look the other way, stop pretending. I know you heard me." May looks to the right seeing a similar figure approaching with red hair. Either like his opponent, May was seeing red, or Tiger-Shark really knocked him loopy. He preferred to think the former.

With the opportunity presented, in this most critical moment, while May was distracted Tiger-Shark releases his killing technique, **"Todo está perdonado-"** Tiger-Shark freezes, a single bead of sweat trickling down the center of his forehead and rolling all the way down to the tip of his nose.

"Is that Shanks; the Red-Haired Shank." Although it was a whisper to his ears it was a loud alarm inside his head. That small utterance forces Tiger-Shark's gaze to shift from May to elsewhere. If that man was truly here, then certainly he would be nearby; he was never far behind.

Whether you chalk it up as the Devil's coincidence or Divine intervention the end fight results are an unexpected conclusion. Immediately after he glimpses Rita, all the energy instantly evaporates from his body; leaving him utterly exhausted. Also, after hearing a haunting name his aim wanes. May collapses, face-planting on the square with his ass in the air. Tiger-Shark misses his mark (elsewhere major devastation is wreaked upon several structures, following his slight slip-up). With May effectively out of the fight, essentially, Tiger-Shark is declared victor.

Immediately following the victory announcement Tiger-Shark collects his prize earnings, and makes himself scarce. With the scuffles of the night all wrapped up everyone who was a spectator also makes their departure. Therefore, no one else was around to bare witness to the once-in-a-lifetime spectacle that was about to unfold next.

* * *

 **The adventure continues. . . Alright, okay, okay. OK! Things are about to get real; can you feel the tension beginning to boil. I have something hot in the pot but you'll have to return next time, to see what I'm cooking: enjoy the smell. One last thing before you depart, I willl be making a slight change in my writing style; if you haven't noticed it now. Pay close attention and take notes.**


	19. Happy-Birthday Lil-Red

**Hello and welcome back everyone.** **In case anyone was curious about why I update the story "ass-backwards" the reason is: Whenever I release a new chapter I want my audience to observe where the initial idea forms. On a blank canvas. Also the chapter will remain untitled until completion. There are literally hundreds of hints, honey. However,** **for you, I have another absolutely breathtaking content deep; fantastically depicted, delicious, dream that I envisioned. It's of something superb that I refuse to let go of, so without further a due I'd like to introduce you-all-to: ILLUSIONS!**

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May wakes up to Rita slapping some sense into him, "Wha-what happened, d...did I win?" May asks halfway out of it. Although he'd regained consciousness Rita still slapped May, battering his head left and right violently.

"You idiot...slap...How could you...backhand...be so stupid...slap, backhand, slap...May!?" The repeated strikes continue until once more May has his wits knocked out of him.

"Whoa, now, easy. I think he's had enough of a beating for one night, don't ya' think?" Antony approaches, chuckling, finding amusement in the situation, "Come to think of it, that's a wicked left hand you got there: miss-?" Antony recognizes her face but no name registered in his memory to match, in fact during their first encounter he never once asked for her name.

The red haired girl looks at him also noticing him upon sight, "You're the food vendor" she blurts out, without thinking, blushing as if she were caught doing something shameful. Although they had already met, they hadn't had a proper introduction, "My name is Rita-Angela Precilla Pineweed. But you may call me Angela." She extends the backside of her hand toward Antony.

Antony makes a gentleman's gesture, gently grabbing her hand and taking a shallow bow, "Name's Antony Harper, but my friends call me Ant. It's a pleasure to meet you." Antony kindly kisses the young lady's hand before releasing it. "So this must be the poor sap, huh, this one's untamed." Antony smiles at May watching as he slowly staggers to his feet.

"Ouch. That really hurt, Rita. Do you have to hit me so hard." May complains using both palms to massage his swollen cheeks. Standing was just about the only thing he could do any further attempt at speaking caused his entire body to throb, motionless, soundless he stood much like a bronze statute. Nonetheless, May was still visibly shocked that Rita and Antony had already met.

Suddenly a suspicious man with red hair approaches May's tiny trio, "Aww, man, I missed it. It's over already.? Rumor was a spectacular event was taking place here tonight." The suspicious man sighs heavily his breath betraying all the booze he must've consumed prior to arriving, "I was really itching to watch a good performance." The red haired man turns his back preparing to walk off.

"Shanks!" Rita says the name with a superior tone to her voice; one that May was completely unfamiliar with: compelled by his companion May observes her intently.

"Who so boldly, dares, calls my name?" The drunken demeanor disappears, replaced by a dark intensity as his shadow seemed to grow with Rita trapped inside it. Not once does the man motion to turn around.

"My name is Rita-Angela Precilla Pineweed. To you I am Angela the assassin." Still the suspicious man never turns around. Not one to be overlooked Rita unfastens a yellow silk ribbon the only thing holding her hair in place: red hair spills out of the tight bun she wore and streams down the length of her shoulders, "Today is my birthday." Rita tells him looking poised the right side of her face completely concealed by the lose strands of hair that seemed to gather there.

May stares at Rita's back mystified, she was starting to resemble a mystery: if it was murder she wrote he was being to wonder whose she was writing. Rita reaches behind her head revealing the largest sapphire May had ever seen, it was a spectacle to gaze upon, the smooth surface seemed to shimmer and ripple like wavy waves. It was something truly wonderful to behold. On the other end she wielded a weapon, thin and precise to the point from the hilt to the tip it looked as dangerous as her desires.

Shanks must've had eyes in the back of his head because the man was undaunted continuing to taunt Rita, "If you think you can prick me with your thorn, you might get your heart torn." Needless to say she didn't take kindly to his disrespect.

Refined and composed Rita takes a stance placing her right hand behind her back, "I'm willing to Risk that to see you take your last breath. Now turn and face me or meet an early grave." Her final sentence seemed to have the desired effect, Shanks slowly turns and looks at her with an affectionate eye; much like the one that an elder sibling has for a younger one. A look May himself was fondly familiar with.

"Sigh. . .fine it's your funeral than, Lil-Red." He places one hand, his only hand, on the cutlass on his waist. However, before he could blink Rita was crashing upon him like waves, "Whoa. I like that splash assault, Lil-Red." Shanks chuckles moving more fluidly than his opponent; all without even having to draw his weapon.

"Stop calling me that!" Rita retreats back before dancing forward again pulling before pushing. The repetition of her focus was miraculous to say the least, "A fish with one fin, resisting the currents tide, Eye become **:Whirlpool.** " Rita dances around Shanks leaving him no escape and effectively forces him to remain momentarily stationary.

Springing forth Rita unleashes her torrent. She makes a rush using precise timing and aim creating an opportunity she could not miss, it was utterly impossible; her victory was assured. May could feel the air trapped, locked, inside his lungs and he refused to take that breath of relief until it was over; after Rita was safe. May refused to look away, he'd made a promise to never allow harm to befall her, never on his watch, he loosens his scarf relaxing _'she's got him now'_.

Suddenly a seagull swoops from the sky and snatches the scarf from around May's neck. Reflex beats instinct causing May to lock his jaws around his precious possession, a dog tugging back. In the following moments this happens: Shanks closes his eyes falling back on one foot and smiles accepting his losses. Instantaneously instinct overpowers doubt and Shanks uses a suspicious sense of alertness becoming aware of the unknown.

Possessing superior reflexes than that of his opponent, Shanks at last draws his sabre. The hilt of his sabre barely brushes the bottom of her forearm, but that slight sensation was all that was necessary to alter her trajectory. The end of her rapier glides harmlessly up his forehead and like a comb parts his hair. However, Rita is not as fortunate finding the sharp side of a sabre at her neck. She could feel the cold steel at her throat, fear froze her heart and turned her blood into ice.

Simultaneously, the seagull pulls free the scarf from May's mouth and all at once the final reserve of strength May had stored had been sapped away. He looks hopelessly at the sky watching a childhood dream fly out of his grasp. When suddenly a gunshot fires and the seagull drops dead, midway, May's scarf falls down from the heavens and lands on the barrel of a smoking pistol.

A man with the letters "Yasso" Tattooed on his forehead holds his pistol high in triumph as the sun begins to rise in the horizon behind him. Obviously known by the name engraved on his skull Yasso approaches May, "If this is something you truly value hold onto it more vigorously, in today's time you can't slip up; not even for an instant." After giving some sound advice to an aspiring dreamer the man addresses Shanks, "Yo, captain, the crews ready to set sail." He remarks about time wasting and references the booze being all loaded.

May returns his attention to Rita hoping to glimpse her moment of triumph. Instead he's confused by the outcome. The conclusion had long since past and the resolution made no sense to someone who hadn't witness what occurred. Rita stands before Shanks weapon on the floor, dropped beside her feet, leaving him none the wiser and questioning, "What happened?" May looks at Antony who was stammering and speechless at a loss for words to describe what he'd seen.

"Nothing." Is the only word Antony can utter his voice lower than a whisper.

Shanks laughter turns May's attention back to the two duelist, having one final word, "Happy-Birthday Lil-Red, come find me again when you're older and want to party for real. Until then play nice and finish your dance. Otherwise-" Shanks turns to his crew mate leaving Rita inside his ever looming shadow. What else was there that needed saying: she lost.

The walk back to the inn was a quiet one and rather than feeling like they were walking in unison it felt more like they were walking parallel. The obvious question receives an obvious answer so rather than askig: what happened? Instead May asks, "What did he say to you, back there?"

Rita looks at May although she felt heartbroken one look at his goofy face causes her to smile, "He wished me happy birthday."

"But today's not your birthday. I know because mines the following day; and I don't smell any older." May sniffs himself making sure he didn't have an odor and felt rather stupid for asking, "Are you sure he didn't say something else?" He couldn't help frowning looking dumbfounded.

"Yes. I'm sure." Rita laughs for the first time smiling at how foolish May either was or is. Happiness, the surgeon who operates on the sadness inside of hearts, tonight, successfully mended another heartbroken patient. Reminded of all the reasons to continue she and May retire for the entire morning. Both individually exhausted from exerting their ambitions and weary from a close encounter with death. This night the only comfort they find is in their dreams.

Morning turns to noon, and noon turns to night before another daybreak approaches and either stir from their separate slumber. They take turns practicing good hygiene, May makes sure to knock. Afterwards Rita prepares a small breakfast for the two of them and May does the dishes. They both spend the day lounging around, by afternoon Rita makes brunch before lunch and they enjoy another meal in each others company. They make small-talk and play cards: otherwise nothing significant occurs. Finally night arrives and May and Rita prepare for bed after an uneventful evening.

When suddenly someone knocks on the door, "Knock...knock...knock." The sound is gentle and soft almost as if whoever was knocking was reluctant to get their attention. Nonetheless, when trouble comes knocking: May opens the front door.

"Yeah. Who is it?" May says while looking at a young girl on the other side of the doorway.

"Please! You have to help my father-" Before she can finish her sentence she starts sobbing profusely.

"Who's at the door, huh, May?" Rita calls from the room dressing in her pajamas.

"Um, I'm not sure, some little girl is sleepwalking. I think she lost her father." Apparently something May said didn't sit too well with the girl in the hallway, and she begins to wail loudly. The sudden sheiks of the small girl wakes the entire floor and causes Rita to rush to see what all the commotion was about.

Several of their neighbors were already complaining and peeking out their doorways, "Shhh... Some of us have actual responsibilities and a life. Keep your kid quiet." One woman shouts over the constant crying of the girl.

"But she's not my child." May tries to protest but his words fall on deaf ears.

"We're sorry ma'am. She's just a little upset" Rita interjects herself in the situation seeing as how May couldn't handle it, "You know how children have bad dreams." Rita attempts to laugh it off and diffuse the situation.

"Humph...Seems to me like quite the nightmare." The woman sighs before returning to her own apartment, but not before having a final word trying to have the last say.

"Come on in, little girl, tell me what heaped. What's your name?" Rita ushers the girl inside leaving May to shut the door behind them

"Isa. My name Isa." She stops speaking and looks at May. May hesitates unsure of what to say, nor why she looked at him that way; in such a strong manner. He couldn't begin to comprehend what that stare ment but he was certainly about to find out; weather he wanted to or not. "It's your fault." She unfairly blames May.

"Me!? What did I do?" May takes a defensive tone.

"No. I don't want to talk to you." She shouts shaking her head violently sobbing and splashing tears everywhere.

Rita looks at May apologetically, "I'm sorry May but could you please wait outside, in the hallway." Although she was asking Rita was already showing May to the door. May looks as if he wants to say something but is at a loss for words. Rita simply shrugs her shoulders, "Girl talk. Won't take long." The door practically slams shut leaving May to wonder: what are they talking about on the other side?

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 **The adventure continues. . . Hello everyone, on the other side, I'm back from my hiatus. Today I have prepared for you a positively promising chapter, full of fascinating phrases and a funny perspective on things that make me emotional. With that being said I hope you enjoy this update and will return later for another addition to the story. Until next time, farewell.**


	20. I May Sleepwalk

**Welcome back wonderful readers. As I prepare to write I take absolute delight in the sight I had to see, and as I prepare to share an enormous glimpse of a vision I once seen: I'd like you all to dream with me. Dive into darkness and allow my artwork, black ink, to consume and corrupt the world you view. Permit me to spin and twist unhindered by inhibition. Together. Let us b** **ecome free from hallucinations. Eternal beacon for the wandering warrior, lost. An abandoned lighthouse glows. Frightened soldier ease your mind of woes. My** **rage is a mirage, a figment, a mere fraction of the action of my illuminating illusion. Reader becomes a moth to my flammable fable.**

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May paces up and down the hallway unsettled by the girl's accusation, he'd been blamed before but not for something of this magnitude. For a random child to show up at his door, in the middle of the night, and demand him to do anything was outright preposterous. What disturbed him the most was this girl, Isa, he couldn't place his finger on it but she seemed somewhat familiar. May felt as if they had met somewhere before. If only he was better at remembering.

May puts on his detective cap, figuratively speaking, evaluating the circumstances and asks himself critical questions, questions such as: Who is Isa's father? What does he mean to me? When did I meet this young girl? Why does she, unfairly, blame me for the problems in her life; why does she think I could or should help her? Where have I seen Isa before?" After pondering his thoughts and coming to no conclusions, May accepts he's unable to alter any conditions and decides to chalk it up as sheer coincidence. Satisfied, slightly, preferring the simple yet understandable explanation: sometimes things happen in life and somethings occurs by chance. A freak accident.

Instead of the more complex, requiring a certain level of comprehension, everything in life is interconnected. Actions are predetermined and dictated by the guiding hands of both fate and destiny. May was too tired to concentrate on considering how everything was correlated. His primary concern was sleep. However, there was one small problem. May stands in the hallway, accused, cast outside in nothing but his pajamas; not the most fashionable ones either. The fact that even the slightest thing prevented him from the wonders of a good night's rest really, really, irritated May. It was the guiding force distracting his focus because right now it was the only thing he wanted to do.

Growing impatient with suspicion, wondering what was being discussed on the other-side, May reaches for the doorknob intent on inserting himself back into the the conversation. One way or another. He was through searching himself for evidence to prove his own innocence. Suddenly, the door swings open as if Rita was expecting him to march in at any moment. Either that or she completely forgot about him and was only now remembering, he preferred to think it was the former. However, nothing could've prepared him for the nightmare he was about to receive. If something wicked was already brewing May was about to bring it all to a boil.

"May I have tragic news" Rita stares at May her features etched with great concern, "It's Ant, he's hurt." She gives him more information than he can process all in one moment and he has to stop her and remind her to breathe. But really he needed a second for his ears to truly grasp what he'd heard.

"Wait. Come again, Ant...Ant's hurt. That's real specific what are we talking about here, scraped knees or bruised elbows?" May tries to be humorous looking back and forth at Rita and Isa wearing a smirk, needless to say it didn't work. In fact his attempt seemed to have the inverse effect, causing Isa to start bawling once more.

Rita looks at May greatly annoyed, "Really, May. You need to be more sensitive to other people's feelings. Must I really repeat myself?" The question must've been rhetorical because she doesn't wait for a reply, "This morning Ant went down to the shipyard, but he never went back to his house-"

"But he did make it home, right." May interrupts, "I mean how hurt could he be." Although his tone hid his emotions well, panic was slowly stirring the more the conversation developed.

Rita gives May a more pointed glance for his interruption and insensitivity, all the while offering comfort and reassurance to Isa, "We don't even know why he went to that awful place to begin with." Isa says before she breaks down again, unable to bear the thought of more harm done to her father.

Rita keeps looking at May with her honest eyes, she truthfully couldn't say why a fine gentleman like Antony would willingly walk into a terrible situation, but she more than knew a certain person who might because it had the familiar stench belonging to one of May's "bright ideas" (effectively bringing the count to 0-2).

"I never asked him to go there, he offered, Ant told me he'd use my share of the prize to get our ship refitted ." May voices his input hoping to resolve the issue, the sooner he could get to sleep. Unfortunately everything he seemed to say or have done was beginning to backfire against him.

"And you just let him walk into that place; all by himself!" Isa shouts directing unprecedented fury toward May, delivering harmless punches to his shirt with fist wet from wiping tears. May tenderly grasps Isa's wrist, fragile and trembling, she was frightened with no one else to turn to. May sighs, softly, slightly slouching over so he could better look her in the eyes.

In all sincerity May didn't like to see people suffer, "Isa, I'm sorry, if I knew what type of place that was I never would've let him go anywhere near it." At that moment suffering blindsides him, in this case, it comes in the form of a open-palm-slap. With her free hand Isa delivers May mutual sorrow. Not only does Isa's actions take May by surprise, the sudden sound was as if someone dropped a bombshell in the room. Rita is also taken aback, startled by Isa's tenacity. No one more so than the culprit herself, Isa, astounded by her own drastic change in temperament. However, no deed done can be undone.

"No! That's not good enough. I refuse to forgive you; I won't accept your apology." Isa can't help raising her voice, she was mad with no source to direct it. May on the other hand was equally sad, so when he pulls her in holding her close to his chest it's only natural for her to cry. Her tears and snot are absorbed into his shirt, the more she sobs the damper his chest becomes. Until at last Isa looks up at May, "I'm so scared. I don't know what to do; will you help me find my father?" She sniffles and coughs into his already soaked shirt, unapologetically.

"Well...you know...I could" May shifts his eyes toward Rita reading her language for unspoken approval before returning his sights back to Isa, "And...I think...I should." May hesitates pretending to ponder his answer; prolonging a reply if only for dramatic effect before finally giving his response, "So...I would...have to say...absolutely. Now quit slobbering on my shirt, you crybaby." It's hard to be offended when your reflection tells the truth, despite this Isa shoves May away breaking them apart in playfulness and for the first time since he seen her: May and Rita's first night in Omelet Town. Isa smiles.

"I'm not a crybaby." She tells an obvious lie.

"And I'm not generous so let's get going." May makes his way out the doorway with no hesitation.

"Wait! You moron." Rita calls May bringing him to a screeching halt, "Do you always have to be such a colossal idiot?"

"Was that rhetorical?" May retorts.

"Did you even check your clock, you fool? It's showing."

May looks at Rita confused, unsure which direction the arms of the clock were pointing nor what they had to do with what was on his watch, the actual time but certain about the hands on his wrist, "I believe it's time I pay a small visit to the shipyard. May boast confidently, reassured by the hands on his wrist.

"Not the actual time, stupid. Honestly, May, it's alarming how foolish you are sometimes." Rita buries her face in the palm of her hand, slightly, shaking her head.

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 **The Adventure Continues... So, this is what I've held onto and I'm just going to release this one into the atmosphere and allow anyone who enjoys my writing and One Piece to gravitate towards it because I've got a lot of make-up work to do. And unfortunately I'm the only one who can do it so here's another update and I'll be seeing you all really, really soon.**


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